The Color of Shadows
by absolutemalfoy
Summary: DARK dramione - After a tragic incident causes Hermione to learn the truth about her heritage, she's forced back into her true family's care: the Parkinson's. Hermione's world is turned upside down as she is forced to spend the summer with a group of Slytherins - one of them being the very boy she hates - Draco Malfoy. What happens when Hermione changes for the worse?
1. Desolation

**Title:** _The Color of Shadows_

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the world of Harry Potter or the characters within.  
I only own the plot line and a few OCs here and there if there are any.

**Before You Read: **This is a dark dramione – and if you're not one for the pairing or the darkness then I suggest you don't read this.  
The rating is T for language & violence as of now. It may change later on as love & lust develop.

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**Chapter One: **_Desolation_

* * *

Hermione heard the crash before she felt her father grab her from her bed, pushing her toward the ground and underneath her bed. With her mind still foggy with sleep, she was insanely confused. What was going on? Why was she under the bed?

"Hermione, darling, stay here. Don't make a sound – _don't move,_" her father said, whispering frantically in the dark. He hurriedly left the room, closing the door behind him. She heard him run down the stairs before three pairs of footsteps came rushing back up. A gunshot sounded downstairs.

She heard her door open back up and saw three shadows move across the already dark room.

"Please, stop. You don't have to do this."

Hermione heard her father speak to the unknown guests, his feet now directly in front of her. She was now fully awake as she understood what was happening. She stared wide-eyed into the darkness as the other two shadows moved a few meters closer to her father.

She heard a gun shot sound before seeing her father's body drop to the ground. She pushed her hand against her mouth, stifling her scream. She stared into his now lifeless eyes – the darkness concealing most of his face. She felt tears leak down her cheeks as she stared into his lifeless face, her hand shoved tightly against her mouth to conceal any sounds.

"Let's get out of here," she heard the culprits state, hurrying from the room and down the stairs. She waited quietly, her hand against her mouth still to stifle the sobs that now wracked her body. After five minutes of silence she finally pulled her hand away and crawled out from under the bed.

"Daddy! Daddy!" she screeched, squinting into the darkness and through her tears. She pulled his head into her lap as she knelt next to him, trying to find any sign of life in him. There was none. He was lifeless. He was gone.

She sat there holding his head in her lap for a few minutes before she immediately stood, screaming at the top of her lungs, "Mom? Mom!"

She hurried down the steps, stopping at the bottom. The downstairs living room was trashed – and there was blood splattered all over. The light was on, illuminating the puddle of blood her mother lay in. Hermione's sobs grew stronger as she dropped next to her, forcefully trying to see through her tears.

"Mom! Mom, wake up!" she cried, all rational thought gone from her mind. She knew they were gone. She just couldn't accept it. She stood and hurried over to the phone that lay on the kitchen counter. She hurriedly dialed 999 with shaky fingers, tears blurring her vision.

"Emergency - what service do you require?"

Hermione tried to explain what had happened through her tears, the sobs wracking her body still. She was barely coherent and would soon be absolutely and utterly _in_coherent. As the woman assured her the police were on their way, Hermione slid to the ground with the phone held tightly in her hand.

She stared into the darkness as tears poured down her burning cheeks. She hadn't even been home for a day and her parents were dead. They were _dead. _She closed her eyes and let the sobs control her, folding in on herself as she cried.

The police found her this way.

* * *

"Miss Granger, could you please explain to us one more time what happened?"

Hermione sat staring at a blank patch of wall behind the cop's head. She'd answered this question enough times already. She was tired. She hadn't slept in three days. She was exhausted of answering these questions. She didn't want to think anymore.

There was a knock on the door that caused the detective to look up at the culprit.

"Detective Lunsford, would you mind if I spoke to miss, er – _Granger_ – on my own for a bit?" the man asked, gesturing toward Hermione. She couldn't see him from where she was sitting, though she could guess he was older. His voice stated so.

"Yes, sir. Of course." detective Lunsford stated, standing and leaving the room at once. The elder man took his place in the chair in front of Hermione.

She was right. He _was_ old. Not as old as Dumbledore, but he sure was older.

"Miss Granger, I'm detective Harold," the man began, smiling softly at her. Hermione let her gaze connect with his slowly. She didn't want to be questioned anymore. She wanted to sleep. "I have some news for you. Are you aware that you're adopted?"

Hermione's eyes widened a fraction. Adopted? She'd guessed a few times in the past, sure, but to hear it being true? To know the people she just saw die weren't her true paternal figures? It was surreal.

"No sir, I was not," she complied with finally speaking. If he wasn't going to make her rethink of the events that took place three days ago then she'd talk to him.

"I believe your adoptive parents planned to share the news with you once you came of age. But as that won't be happening, we've taken it upon ourselves to tell you," Detective Harold said, looking at Hermione would a kind smile, "This may be a bit of a shock for you, but we must really get to business now."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. Her manners have been nothing but rude the past few days. "What do you mean, _sir_?" she asked, adding the sir on the end with unintended sarcasm.

"Well miss Granger, I'm sure you're aware that your parents were both only children, as were their parents – which are all dead as of now. You have no living family that we can seem to trace," he paused to check Hermione's expression, which was now blank. She had nothing to say. "Well miss Granger, as you have no living relatives, we are to hand your guardianship over to the state. Your true family has been alerted of the Granger's demise and have requested to have full custody of you once again."

Hermione stared at detective Harold with a blank face. Her family – that had given her up – wanted her back? She assumed they were magical. There was no way her power was this mature for her to be a muggleborn. She was too strong for that.

"We are legally obligated to allow them this. You're still a minor, therefore you have no true saying in this decision. We thought we would alert you and try to answer all your questions, anyways," Detective Harold said, his kind eyes twinkling.

Hermione was still expressionless.

"Who are my true parents?" she asked, her face as blank as it had been for the past two days. She'd cried so much the first day that she was now numb.

"The Parkinson family."

Hermione's eyes widened and her jaw dropped at his words. Her bleak expression was long gone.

"The Parkinson family? Amelia and Artemis Parkinson?" Hermione choked out, now standing as she stared at the detective. Harold was taken aback at Hermione's sudden outburst. He hadn't expected her to know of the family.

"Yes ma'am. I take it you've met the family – or your family?" he asked, his kind eyes now quizzical.

"Their daughter – I know her. Mutual friends," Hermione quickly lied, watching the man. She was a Parkinson. She was related to them. She was related to _Pansy._

"Pansy Parkinson, yes. She is your fraternal twin."

Hermione's heart nearly stopped from shock. She should've guessed, but this was too much. She was a Parkinson and she had a twin sister. She had a long lost twin sister that she'd gone to school with for five years that hated her guts. She was _Pansy Parkinson's twin sister_.

Hermione collapsed into the chair behind her. Her parents – her _adoptive _parents – had been murdered only three days prior and she was to be sent to live with her true family – the _Parkinson family._

"When am I to see them? When am I to be legally theirs once again?" Hermione asked the detective, the shock now calmed a bit. She had her hand against her forehead as she watched the detective.

"Tomorrow. They've already sent in the paperwork needed and will be here tomorrow for you," he stated simply, watching Hermione for any signs of shock.

Hermione stared at the man with a blank face.

"I need to make a phone call," she said, standing up and leaving the room. She needed to speak to Dumbledore immediately.

* * *

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	2. Don't You Know Who I Think I Am?

**Before You Read: **_Disclaimer in chapter one. _ The title of this chapter is taken from the song of the same name by Fall Out Boy.  
This now takes place three days later.

* * *

**Chapter Two: **_Don't You Know Who I Think I Am?_

* * *

Hermione sat on her hands as she stared down at her feet. It reminded her of being six years old in trouble for stealing a cookie before dinnertime. Her heart lurched into her throat as she thought of her parents. Or should she say pseudo-parents.

Hermione sighed.

She couldn't call them that – of course she couldn't. Despite them not being her birth parents, they _were _her parents. At least more of parents than the Parkinsons ever were or would be.

Hermione sighed once again.

She shouldn't be judging the Parkinson family due to what she knew about Pansy. Pansy could be only trying to impress Malfoy, thus bullying Hermione to win his attention.

Hermione looked up as the door opened, pulling her hands from underneath her and setting them on her lap. She smiled politely at Detective Harold. She shouldn't be cross with him over this. It wasn't _his _fault the Parkinson's had earned rightful custody of her once again.

"Good morning, Hermione," he smiled kindly at her as he took a seat across from her. They were seated in one of the many interrogation rooms at the police station. She'd been here for the past few days, getting little to no sleep at all. She was ready for a bed even if it _was_ in Parkinson Manor.

"Good morning, Detective," she replied politely as she forced her smile a bit too much. Her nerves were a bit unraveled today. She knew Amelia and Artemis – her birth parents – would be here soon.

"The documents and all required paperwork has passed," Detective Harold began, setting down a bulk of papers on the table in front of him. "The Parkinsons should be arriving within the hour."

Hermione nodded politely at the man and looked down at her hands, idly fiddling her thumbs. She didn't want to meet them. She'd never seen Pansy's parents before. She just knew their names from overheard conversations.

"Miss Granger, er, _Parkinson," _Detective Harold began once again, "has Dumbledore contacted you at all?"

Hermione shook her head in a 'no' motion and looked toward the door.

"Sir, with all due respect," Hermione started, "do you think it wise to speak of Dumbledore in such a public _non-_magical environment?"

Chuckling, Detective Harold answered Hermione with a grin, "There is a privacy charm set up around this room as well as all the interrogation rooms."

Hermione nodded her head and smiled. She'd learned over the past three days that Detective Harold was indeed a wizard – having had attended Hogwarts himself. She'd wondered how a pureblooded family such as the Parkinsons would've given a child up for adoption or _re-_adopt a child through the muggle government. A lot of paperwork was involved that they didn't understand. That's when she learned of Detective Harold.

There was a knock at the door that interrupted Hermione's thoughts. She bit her lip and glanced at Detective Harold who stood to open the door. Hermione wasn't prepared to see her birth parents for the first time just yet.

"Ah, Detective Griffith," Detective Harold said to the hidden figure outside of the door. Hermione couldn't hear their conversation though she wasn't really focusing on it either.

"Hermione?" Detective Harold turned to look at her, motioning her to stand. "Your parents are here."

Hermione's stomach rolled causing her to feel temporarily nauseous. She stood from her chair and smoothed out her muggle jeans as she followed Detective Harold from the room.

She popped her knuckles in a _very _unladylike gesture as they stopped outside of the room containing her birth parents. She knew Pansy wouldn't be coming today and she was greatly thankful for that. She could handle meeting the Parkinsons, but adding Pansy to it as well was just asking for an emotional breakdown or a deadly duel.

Detective Harold opened the door and led Hermione inside with the other detective whose name she couldn't remember following. Her eyes widened a fraction as her gaze fell upon her birth parents.

"Hello Mr. Parkinson," Detective Harold smiled politely and shook hands with the man, "Mrs. Parkinson," he shook her hand as well before taking a seat opposite them and motioning for Hermione to take the seat next to him. She did as he silently asked.

Hermione sat with her back straight and her eyes wide. She couldn't help blatantly staring at the couple across from her. They were just so… _beautiful._

"Hermione, dear, you've grown up so nicely," Mrs. Parkinson smiled, her lips the perfect shade of red to compliment her fair skin. Her hair was in curly brown ringlets that fell down her shoulders in soft groups. Her eyes were kind – though Hermione could tell that was only for show. You could tell from the lines on her forehead that she frowned quite often and the crinkles near her eyes showed how often she narrowed them. The woman was beautiful – no doubt about it. Hermione assumed she would most likely use another word for her personality once she got to know her a bit better.

"Indeed she has," Mr. Parkinson agreed. He didn't smile. His face wasn't cold, though it wasn't warm either. He didn't seem Death Eater material, though what would Hermione know? She'd never met any Death Eaters save for Lucius Malfoy. And it could be just a Malfoy family trait for him looking so devious. Draco looked the same and Hermione was sure he wasn't a Death Eater just yet.

Hermione was brought from her musings as she focused back on the conversation. She hadn't noticed that the conversation had continued during her musings of the Malfoy family. She mentally shook her head and focused on the situation at hand.

"…No reason not to. The papers have been filed correctly and are in extemporary condition. If they are to become curious about anything, I will certainly fix the problem before anyone is notified," Detective Harold finished.

Hermione assumed they were speaking of the adoption papers.

"And the Ministry?" Mr. Parkinson asked, folding his hands and setting them on the table. Hermione admired his dark suit. He'd make a good muggle politician with his facial expressions and how well he pulled off the suit. His balding head would have to be fixed, though. Hermione could imagine him sitting in a darkened study with a tumbler of whiskey and a book in his hand. He seemed stressed.

"The Ministry is well aware of the situation and I have also sent the paperwork to them. You will have no contact from them whatsoever," Detective Harold replied.

Hermione didn't care to listen in all this. It sounded illegal and she didn't want to know about it. She had no one to contact about it anyways. Dumbledore had yet to reply to her and it'd been a week. She wondered what was going on with Harry and Ron. She hadn't been able to contact them.

"Hermione."

Once again she was brought from her musings by her name. She straightened the frown on her forehead that she got from thinking and looked up at the three standing adults. She stood as well and looked toward Detective Harold – who had spoken.

"This is where we part ways, Hermione," he smiled kindly at her, offering her his hand. She shook it, feeling her heart lurch in her chest as his kind eyes reminded her of her father. She glanced toward her birth father and felt her heart lurch again. She already missed the Grangers. She was waiting for the moment they would be away from the public so their true personalities could be seen.

"Thank-you, Detective," Hermione smiled sadly, "for everything."

"Come along Hermione," Mrs. Parkinson smiled _too _sweetly, "it's time to go home."

_Home. _Hermione doubted she would ever be able to call Parkinson Manor _home. _ With reluctance in her mind, Hermione followed her parents from the room and into muggle London. Her 'mother's' heels were annoying her highly. She never liked the sound.

Hermione followed the couple for a block until they arrived at an alley opening, which they walked into it. Artemis turned to Hermione and offered her his arm. Hermione looked at him quizzically.

"You're too young to apparate," he stated simply. Hermione took his offered arm as she was sucked into the feeling of apparition. It was over in a second but it was the worst feeling she'd ever experienced. The feeling of being squeezed through a small , tight tube was not at all pleasant.

Hermione's feet touched down on cobblestone and she immediately felt light-headed and nauseous. She pulled her hand from Artemis' arm and pushed it against her forehead, closing her eyes momentarily.

"If you are to throw up, do so in the grass please," Artemis murmured as he stepped away from Hermione's noticeably paler form. She focused on her breathing and calmed her nerves before she pulled her hand away from her forehead and reopened her eyes. She was proud of herself for not vomiting. Most wizards tended to on their first apparition.

"Are you well?" Amelia asked, standing in front of Hermione and lifting her chin with a manicured index finger. Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak just yet. She still felt slightly nauseous. And it wasn't entirely from the apparition. The Parkinsons made her nervous.

"Then we will continue on. Hermione, welcome to your new home. Or should I say 'Welcome home'," Amelia smiled, this time not so forced. Hermione looked toward where Amelia was pointing, her stomach lurching once again. It was _huge. _

"This is Parkinson Manor?" she asked, finally speaking to her parents for the first time. It felt wrong that these were her first words to them.

Neither Amelia nor Artemis answered her. They merely watched her examine the manor house.

Hermione and her parents stood outside of the apparition boundaries, therefore being outside of the grounds. A large wrought-iron gate stood before them. Ivory vines wound their way around the bars in the gate, creating the Old English/Victorian feel. The house itself was not so… _gloomy. _It was made from purely white brick, dozens of windows lining the front walls of the house. Some ivory wound its way up the walls as well, though it didn't take away the house's beauty. It merely added to it. The lawns were a bright green – perfect for summer. She could tell the house was well taken care of. Hermione knew the house elves did all the work on the manor. She couldn't say she was happy about that fact.

"Come along then," Amelia said, walking into the now open gate. She assumed it was a spell. Artemis followed his wife onto the grounds, as did Hermione. She was still quite in awe over how large it was. This was to be her home? Sure she'd only live here for two months at the most, but it was still quite large. She could only imagine how the inside looked.

As they reached the front steps of the manor, two house elves appeared, offering their services. Amelia told them something that Hermione couldn't hear. Whatever it was it caused them to disappear instantly. Hermione nearly ran into the back of her mother as Amelia had stopped on the threshold of the manor.

"Hermione, dear," she began, "we're aware you and Pansy know one another from school. We are also aware of your, er, _rivalry. _This has all come as a bit of a shock to Pansy, so please do try to get along with her."

Hermione stared blankly at her mother. _Her _get along with _Pansy? _Did she think Hermione started their arguments? Because she surely didn't. It wasn't Hermione's fault the Slytherins were a bunch of prejudiced pureblooded children with no true minds of their own. Hermione suddenly realized she just half insulted herself. This was going to be hard to come to terms with.

Hermione merely nodded.

"I will have Shim show you to your quarters," Amelia stated without any emotion. That was what Hermione had been waiting for. She'd only then noticed that Artemis had disappeared. Hermione's vision of him with a tumbler of whiskey in his study suddenly came back to mind. She mentally shook her head again.

"Shim?" she asked, startled by the house elves' sudden appearance.

"Mistress called for Shim?" the elf squeaked, looking at her with large eyes.

"Shim is to be your personal elf, Hermione. If you are to need anything, just call for him," Amelia stated before entering the manor. Hermione followed suit, stopping once she entered. The elf stood silently beside her as she took in the large foyer. She watched her mother stalk off toward a large open section to her left. Hermione could only assume it to be the parlor.

"Shim show Mistress to her quarters?" the elf squeaked, fearful of Hermione. She felt awful. She knew he must be treated terribly. Well, not anymore.

"If it's no bother, yes please," she replied kindly, looking around the foyer once again. Two oak wooden stair cases led up to the second floor, between them a large hallway led to the back of the house. Hermione followed the house elf as it made its way up one of the staircases. She ran her fingers over the polished banister, examining the oak walls and portraits that lined them. She assumed they were Parkinson ancestors. _Her _ancestors. The thought bothered her.

"Mistress, this way please."

Hermione was pulled from her thoughts as the elf led her toward the hallway on the left. It reminded Hermione of the long hallways in muggle horror films. She could only imagine what it would look like at night. She was already quite scared.

She followed the elf past ten doors – five on each wall – until they reached the third to last door on the right. Hermione would have to remember that. It seemed easy to get lost in this house. She grabbed the doorknob, stopped from opening it by the elf's voice:

"Will Mistress be needing Shim anymore?" the elf asked, it's large eyes blinking.

Hermione shook her head no. Before she could thank the elf, it had disappeared.

Hermione sighed and opened the door to her new room – her stomach twisting.

The wallpaper was a soft swirl of a light pink and white. Hermione wasn't much for pink, but it matched the room perfectly. A large oak four-poster bed stood against the right wall, a white canopy above it. The white quilt and sheets seemed so elegantly crisp that Hermione didn't have the heart to disturb the bed. The oak hard floor matched the other accents around the room. Hermione was drawn toward one specific spot though – the bookshelf on the opposite side of the room. She walked over toward it, running her fingers along the spines of the books. She was surprised to see so many muggle classics among the Wizarding books. She assumed it was Amelia's doing. She seemed to want Hermione to be comfortable, though not _too _comfortable. It didn't make much sense to Hermione, really.

Hermione pulled _Romeo and Juliet_ off of the shelf, running her fingers over the front cover. She sat in the plush white armchair that faced the bookshelf and opened the book. She'd missed books for the past week.

After quite awhile, Hermione was interrupted from her book when a knock sounded at her open door. Amelia stood at the door, a kind smile on her face. Hermione didn't trust it.

"Hermione, darling, I'd like you to come outside to the back gardens. Pansy and her friends are seated there. Her friends would like to meet you," Amelia smiled, motioning Hermione to follow her.

Hermione doubted any of Pansy's 'friends' wanted to meet her. She most likely knew them already. Did they not know who she was? Had Pansy not told them? She assumed not. She folded the corner of her page and sat the book in her chair, following her mother out of her room and back through the maze that was the manor.

Hermione followed Amelia with a slow pace as they walked in-between the two staircases toward the back of the manor. Hermione could guess who Pansy's friends were and she _wasn't _looking forward to seeing any Slytherins. Who's to say they would treat her any differently now that they knew she was a pureblood?

Hermione followed Amelia out the back of the manor into the summer sunlight. She could spot many different species of flowers lining the ground. They were gorgeous. Hermione watched the flowers bend and sway in the breeze as she followed her mother absentmindedly. She wasn't looking forward to this encounter. She would rather be rereading Shakespeare for the hundredth time.

Hermione rounded a hedge with her mother, her heart lurching into her mouth and her stomach dropping into her feet as she spotted the group of Slytherins. They had quite a different reaction as they laid eyes on her.

"Holy. Shit."

Hermione stared wide-eyed at the group, her heart pounding furiously. She was to be tortured all summer. God must hate her. Why else would he leave her to the mercy of her twin sister, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Daphne Greengrass? The most vicious group of Slytherins she knew – her tormentors for the past five years.

"Mr. Malfoy, do watch your language," Amelia smiled, ushering Hermione forward, "I'll leave you to entertain her. Do play nicely."

With that, she walked off with her heels clicking along.

The four Slytherins turned to stare at Pansy, all eyes wide.

"What the hell Pansy," Draco all about yelled, staring at Pansy, "you never told us your twin sister was Hermione fucking Granger."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I thought this was a good stopping place. I'd like to point out that this takes place in between Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince. I've disregarded all of OOTP – the Golden Trio never fought the Death Eaters, thus Hermione has yet to meet very many (Unless I've forgotten an encounter other than Malfoy and Barty Crouch Jr.). I thought I would point this out. Also, I'd like to thank everyone for the _amazing _feedback I got. Ten reviews in only an hour and on the first chapter. I'm flabbergasted. More reviews mean a faster update as you can see.

**Reviews are my cocaine – be my drug dealer? (:**


	3. Dark Paradise

**Chapter Three: **_Dark Paradise_

* * *

_Continued from last chapter_

"What the hell, Pansy," Draco all but yelled, staring at Pansy. "You never told us your twin sister was Hermione fucking Granger."

Pansy stared at the person of interest – one Hermione Granger-Parkinson. Pansy glared at her with the hatred shining as bright as a hundred suns. Hermione stared indifferently back. Her nerves were all but gone now. She just felt indifference toward the group of Slytherins.

"How would I explain that?" Pansy asked, keeping her eyes on Hermione as she spoke to Draco. "How would I explain to anyone that _she's_ my sister? Saint Potter's lover."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at that. She was used to people assuming her and Harry were romantically involved. Normally people assumed she and Ron were, but she got a lot of Harry, too. Either way, it didn't bother her. Let them believe as they pleased.

"She's not fucking Potter," Draco stated rather bluntly, looking toward Hermione and burning her with his gaze. He as well had hate shining in his eyes.

"Either way, I couldn't explain that. Not to anyone," Pansy replied to him, turning away from Hermione finally.

Daphne looked up from her nails finally, squinting at Hermione in the sunlight. She made a face of pure disgust and pointed at Hermione's jeans. "_What _are _those_?"

Hermione looked down at her legs and back at Daphne. She'd never had a conversation with the girl and now she understood why. Daphne was the typical girl with too much money and time on her hands.

Hermione turned away from the group and begin walking away before she heard someone whisper the word 'mudblood'. She turned and stared daggers at the group, her temper flaring. She'd been called mudblood for the past four years by this group and she wasn't about to let it continue – especially since it was no longer true.

"Malfoy, keep your prejudice statements to yourself. If you are to continue your torment of me for the next two years then I suggest you think of a new insult – one that _isn't _incorrect," Hermione told him with a blank face, turning on her heel and walking away from the Slytherins.

She'd had enough of the snakes already and she'd only been in their presence for two minutes.

* * *

Hermione sat in her room – that she had successfully found on her third try – with her legs pulled up to her chest and a book in her hands. She sat in the plush chair that was aligned with her window that overlooked the gardens. She'd checked the view and found it breathtaking. Too bad she couldn't open the curtains. She didn't want to see the Slytherins anymore.

Hermione reread the page she'd only just finished, her thoughts moving much too quickly for her to focus:

"_But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.  
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou her maid art far more fair than she…"_

Hermione folded the corner of the page down once again. She couldn't read right now. Too much had happened for her to be able to focus on anything but this past week's events. Starting with her parents' death.

Hermione closed her eyes tightly as the vision of her father's lifeless eyes staring at her came to mind. It'd been haunting her dreams for the past week. She'd gotten less than five hours of sleep this entire week due to it. It'd explain the bags underneath her eyes.

Hermione opened her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She didn't want to cry. Not now. Not until she knew Amelia wouldn't call her down again. She would cry later on when she knew she wouldn't be interrupted. She'd cry when she knew no one would find out.

Hermione stood up from her chair and pulled the long white curtains away from the window, glancing out over the gardens. It was about four o'clock now. The air would become crisper soon and the breeze colder. Hermione glanced down at where the Slytherins sat. One was missing. She couldn't see whom from her position, but she knew one was. Didn't much bother her, really.

Hermione turned away from the window, jumping back slightly as she saw Theodore Nott standing in the threshold of her door with his arms crossed. He didn't look so foreboding, but nonetheless she didn't like his prescience. Sure he'd never been one of the Slytherins to antagonize her, but he sure thought like them.

"Can I help you?" Hermione asked him, mirroring his image and crossing her arms over her chest.

"No," he replied, still staring at her. Hermione felt slightly uncomfortable. He had those eyes that could see into your soul. It bothered her.

"Why are you, er, in my room?" she asked, tightening her arms around herself.

"I'm not in your room," he replied, nodding toward the ground where he clearly was standing in the corridor. Hermione narrowed her eyes. Smart-ass.

"What do you want, Nott?" she asked, her temper flaring. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She wanted to be alone.

"You've taken up my reading space." He shrugged, nodding toward the bookcase. Hermione shuffled uncomfortably. She felt slightly bad about sounding rude now. She hadn't noticed he read. Nor had she noticed these books weren't personally hers.

"Oh," she said, looking down at the ground as she rubbed her arm. "You can read if you'd like. I was just leaving."

Theo raised his eyebrow, not moving from his position in the doorway. His eyes were bothering Hermione still. The light blue irises complimented his dark hair brilliantly. He could look attractive if he tried. Hermione could tell he didn't much care for appearances.

Hermione walked toward him and stood in front of the door, expecting him to move. He stared at her for a moment before sliding out of her way and letting her pass. She slipped past him and headed down the hallway. She heard him enter her room and she blew her breath out. He made her uncomfortable for some reason.

Hermione decided now was a time for exploration. She tried the door next to her bedroom, finding it to be a guest room. It was an exact replica of her room though light blue and missing a bookcase. She moved onto the next room, which turned out to be another guest room. This house could easily be a hotel.

Hermione tried a door on the other side of the hall, her eyes widening as she saw a boy not much older than her bent over a trunk. He turned to look at her as Hermione began to close the door.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-" he cut her off.

"Hermione?" he asked. Hermione nodded. Was this another of Pansy's friends?

"Oh, wow. I was wondering when I'd get to meet you." The boy smiled, standing up from his bent over position."Come on in. I don't bite."

Hermione stepped into the room cautiously. So far he was the first person to be remotely nice to her. And she had no idea who he was.

"I'm Alex," he smiled, offering her his hand, "though I seriously doubt you know of me. You've only been here a few hours longer than I have."

Rejecting his offered hand, Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

"I'm Alex – Alex Parkinson. Your brother," he explained, still smiling wildly. Hermione's eyes widened. She had a brother? How many siblings did she have?

"Why don't I know of you?" she asked, shuffling her feet awkwardly. She wasn't sure if she should be comfortable in his presence or not.

"I wouldn't expect our parents to tell you – they've not spoken to you since you've gotten here, correct?" He paused as Hermione nodded in agreement. "And Pansy isn't too fond of me. Therefore I wouldn't expect you to know of me," he finished with a shrug.

"Why doesn't Pansy like you?" Hermione had to watch out. If Pansy didn't like him, perhaps he wasn't as nice as he came off as. Hermione had to admit she was beginning to feel calmer in his presence, though.

Alex sighed. "She thinks I'm the favorite."

Hermione nodded in understanding. Sibling rivalry was tough. She'd always been an only child – or so she'd thought – so she had never dealt with it, but Ron had. And she'd listened to Ron rant over his many siblings for years. She'd never wanted siblings. She preferred being the only child.

"How old are you?" Hermione asked him, eying his trunk curiously. She hadn't seen him around Hogwarts before.

"Sixteen. I'm a year older than you and Pansy. I go to Durmstrang," he explained, noticing her gaze.

"Why don't you go to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked. She was curious now.

Alex rubbed the back of his neck and looked at Hermione with an expression that said 'I'm sorry'. "There's a lot you don't know about this family."

Hermione frowned. That wasn't a good answer. Perhaps Artemis _was _a Death Eater. Hermione's heart lurched. She was on Voldemort's hit list – she was sure of it. He could kill her at any given moment. The Parkinsons could deliver her to him anytime.

"I don't want to discuss my family or myself, though. Tell me about you. How was living with Muggles?" he asked, sitting down on his bed and patting the spot next to him. His smile was breathtaking. He had the face anyone could trust. And he had the face any girl would fall for. None of the Parkinson children looked alike. The only similarities they had were their eyes – a deep chest-nutty brown. His hair stuck up in different directions such as Harrys though it was attractively done – it was attractively messy. And his hair was much lighter than Harry's. He was also much tanner than Harry. Thinking of Harry brought Hermione's heart lurching into her throat once again. It was bothering her not being able to talk to him or Ron. She needed to talk to _someone. _Someone she knew and liked, anyway.

Hermione cautiously took a seat next to Alex, raising her eyebrow at him. "You're interested in Muggles? Aren't you against Muggle-borns and Muggles?"

Alex shrugged. "I'm indifferent toward the entire war – just don't tell our parents. I'm the sole pride of this family and if they found out I'm not on their side they would surely pick me off the family tree."

Hermione stared at him. He lied to his parents? She assumed all purebloods believed what was forced into them. And him attending Durmstrang – a school _ran _by a Death Eater – would surely force him into believing, right?

"I won't tell," she smiled at him. He smiled brightly at her and that caused her to laugh – her first laugh in a week. It felt good.

"What's a film?" Alex suddenly asked, watching Hermione curiously. He seemed sincere. Perhaps he was only being nice, but that was enough to make Hermione start talking.

"A type of moving picture. Imagine a picture, but it told a story. Do you get what I mean?" Alex nodded to Hermione's answer.

"I'm not much good at explaining these types of things. I can explain the mechanical make-up of a film easily, but I can't explain _it._ If that makes any sense at all," she said, frowning. She didn't want to sound ignorant. She was the brightest witch of her age.

Alex nodded once again. "It's fine. Tell me about yourself. It's not every day you meet your long-lost little sister."

Hermione smiled at Alex. He was genuine. She liked him already. She prayed to all her Gods this wasn't a façade. She didn't know how she would handle that if he was only pretending.

"Do you read?" she asked him, nodding toward the large bookcase – bigger than the one and fuller than the one in her room.

"Guilty pleasure," he replied. "How about you? I've heard of you before, you know. Hermione Granger – the brightest witch of her age. You're also best-friends with Harry Potter, yeah?"

Hermione nodded reluctantly. This seemed more of an interrogation now. Perhaps he was a Death Eater sent on the mission to interrogate her for information on Harry. She mentally shook her head. That just was _not _possible. There was no way this guy was a Death Eater.

"Well Hermione, I'm afraid the world will now know you by another name. Hermione Evelyn Parkinson," he smirked at her as he said Evelyn.

"Evelyn? They're even changing my middle name? To _that?_" Hermione asked, making a revolted face at the name. Evelyn. What a horrid name.

Alex laughed. His laugh was so carefree it made Hermione smile. If she ever had wanted a sibling, he'd be the type she wanted.

"We _all _have terrible middle names. Alexander Ursel Parkinson," he grimaced at his middle name causing Hermione to laugh. At least hers wasn't that bad.

"It means bear. Do I _look _like a bear to you?" he asked, laughing with her. They both knew already that they'd get along just perfectly.

"Sadly, no," she smiled.

They both went silent as they heard multiple pairs of footsteps coming down the hallway. They listened as they heard voices come into focus:

"Why didn't you _tell _me he was coming home today?"

It was Daphne.

"Because honestly, Daphne, I don't want you fawning over him all summer."

And Pansy.

Hermione looked at Alex with a raised eyebrow. Who were they talking about?

"We're engaged," he told her, his face a bit forlorn. Hermione could clearly see he wasn't as excited about this arrangement as Daphne was.

"Whatever, Pansy. I don't '_fawn'_ over him," Daphne replied with an indicative tone.

"Believe what you please, Greengrass. But you do."

Malfoy was with them as well. It most likely was the entire group of Slytherins save for Theo. That is unless he left Hermione's room already and met back up with them.

"No one asked you, _Draco. _If anyone is to fawn over a guy it's Pansy. She's completely obsessed with you," Daphne said. There was smacking sound heard and a yelp from Daphne.

Hermione looked toward Alex for an answer. She knew Pansy had a thing for Draco – _everyone _did. They'd been friends for all of their lives. Why wouldn't she fall for him? _He's obnoxious; he's a prejudice weasel who only cares about himself, he hates everyone, etc. _Hermione thought to herself. She couldn't see what Pansy liked about him so much.

"They're engaged as well," Alex told Hermione, looking back at the door. Why they were listening into the conversation, Hermione didn't know. But she continued to anyway.

"Theo? What are you doing in Granger's room?" Draco asked. They must've stopped. Only one pair of footsteps could be heard now.

"You can't really call her Granger anymore, you know. She's a Parkinson now," Theo replied as he walked toward the group. He sounded mature – above them even. It was unnerving. Hermione really didn't like him.

"_Don't _remind me," Pansy said. She sounded closer.

"Where is she anyway?"

Hermione quit listening. She didn't want to hear anymore hateful comments from any of them. It was getting old and annoying. She just couldn't bear listening any longer.

"Don't listen to them," Alex told her, smiling his award-winning smile, "they literally talk about everyone. Even each other."

Hermione smiled at him. It was nice to see he cared – at least she thought he did. Hermione was surrounded by pureblooded Slytherins. She didn't know a single thing about how their minds worked. She had a _lot _to learn.

"Do your friends come around?" Hermione asked him, looking around his room. It looked a lot like hers except for the multiple Quidditch posters around the room. He clearly loved the sport.

"I prefer to be alone," he told her, standing up and offering her his hand. "Since no one else will offer you, shall I give you a tour of the manor?"

Hermione smiled and grabbed his hand. She liked him. She really did. He was nice. He was someone she could be a friend with instantly. He reminded her of Harry, too. And she liked that.

"I'd like that, thanks," she smiled.

He opened his door and stepped out with Hermione's arm connected with his. The group of Slytherins stood staring at them, facial expressions a bit confused. They hadn't expected the two of them to meet – or to become friends.

"Oh, hi, Alex," Daphne squeaked, smiling at him brightly and twirling her hair. Hermione wanted to hit her. Life wasn't _all _about boys.

"Good afternoon, Daphne," he smiled at her, nodding toward the other Slytherins, "I'm taking my dear sister on a tour now if you don't mind."

The Slytherins moved aside, still a bit confused. Pansy was furious – Hermione could tell. Why wouldn't she be mad that her siblings she hated were being friendly toward one another? Theo was as indifferent and blank faced as he was earlier. Blaise and Draco were just blatantly confused as to what they were to do. Draco appeared to be thinking of an insult, though coming up blank. Hermione knew it'd take him awhile to think of a new one.

Alex pulled Hermione with him through the house, showing her each and every room and even secret ones he'd discovered during his childhood. They talked along the way about Hermione's childhood and muggle things. She asked him questions too; he was just a bit reluctant to answer them all. She couldn't understand why, but she'd find out eventually.

"He was horrified. You should've seen his face. I'm honestly surprised I wasn't expelled," Alex explained as Hermione laughed at his story. He really did remind her of Harry. A _lot._

They stopped outside of Hermione's room and he walked in, collapsing atop her bed. Hermione grimaced. It was such a beautiful bed and he just _had _to ruin it…

"Not to make you worry or anything, but you should really be picking out a dress, you know," Alex mumbled as he stared at the canopy atop her bed. She raised an eyebrow at his words.

"Why would I need a dress?"

Alex rolled onto his side and looked at her, picking a loose string off her quilt. "Narcissa Malfoy is hosting her annual summer ball tomorrow night."

Hermione's stomach lurched. Malfoy? She'd be going to _Malfoy Manor? Draco's home? Lucius Malfoy's home? A Death Eater's home?_ She didn't like this one bit.

"Can't I skip it?" Hermione asked him, nervously twirling her hair. She wasn't acting herself today. Not really, no. And she hated it. She didn't know what was wrong with her. Perhaps it was the shock of her parents dying, or the shock of her being adopted then readopted by her birth parents. She didn't know. Whatever it was, she didn't like it.

"Sadly, no," he told her, rolling onto his back again, "it's mandatory we attend. Kind of sucks that you're forced to it, though. Especially since you're new to this life and all."

Hermione shrugged. "Doesn't matter, I guess. I don't have any clothes, though. I was told I wouldn't need anything I had."

Alex rolled off of Hermione's bed and walked toward one of the two doors on the wall opposite Hermione's bed. He opened one and held it open for Hermione. She watched him curiously before walking into the open room, her eyes widening. It was a closet. A _huge _closet. Full of any and every color of robes, dress after dress, skirt after skirt, shoes after shoes. Did they take her for a girly-girl? Or did they expect to change her?

"I am _not _wearing any of this," she exclaimed, stepping further in and examining a tight grey dress that split half way down the leg. "Do you _see _this?"

Alex stared at her and laughed, pulling a dress from a hook and holding it up for her to see. "This is the one you'll wear."

Hermione stared at him before looking at the dress. It was breathtaking. But she could _never _pull it off. She doubted it. _Highly _doubted it. Hermione's figure wasn't that nice.

"It's perfect for you, trust me." He smiled at her. She reminded him of a girl friend she never had in that moment. Harry and Ron tended to forget she was a girl. But Alex clearly knew she was. And he seemed to know some things about girls unlike her best friends.

"Now, let's go to dinner," Alex said, re-hanging the dress and leaving her closest. "Pansy's friends have gone – it's just the family now. Ready for your first Parkinson family meal?"

Hermione's stomach lurched. She really wasn't.

* * *

"Hermione, darling, have you seen your closet yet?"

Hermione looked up from her plate at Amelia – _her mother _– and nodded. "Yes, I have. You didn't have to purchase me new clothes."

Amelia waved her hand. "Of course I did. I couldn't have a daughter of mine dressing as a filthy Muggle."

Hermione clenched her fist underneath the table. She already disliked her _mom. _Sure, she understood they hated Muggles and Muggle-borns, but did they have to hate them in front of her? Especially since her parents for the past fifteen years were Muggles and she just _watched them die?_

"Thank you, I appreciate it," she replied, smiling kindly. She was already acting as a Slytherin. She didn't like it.

Hermione connected eyes with Alex who was hiding a smile behind his hand. How his – _their _– parents didn't notice this she didn't know. They must not pay much attention to their children.

Hermione was currently seated a rather large dining table – large enough for twenty people to sit at. Why there would be twenty people at this table was unclear to Hermione. Hermione mentally shook her head and looked toward her right where Pansy was seated. There was about five chairs in between them, but they were still too close for the others liking. Mr. Parkinson sat at the head of the table, Alex at the other end. Hermione assumed Mrs. Parkinson would've taken that position, though she was clearly wrong. Mrs. Parkinson sat across from Hermione and Pansy, directly in the middle of the two girls. It was an odd arrangement and it made Hermione feel quite lonely. She didn't care to talk during this meal, though. She only wanted it to be over.

Hermione left her jumbled thoughts as an unknown chocolate dish appeared before her. They'd had their appetizer and main course already, now was their dessert. Hermione probably couldn't eat anymore, but the food was just absolutely delicious. She'd never had anything so exquisite before.

Hermione grabbed her fork – one of the forks anyways – and cut a piece of the odd chocolate concoction. She slid a piece into her mouth, closing her eyes momentarily as the flavor washed over her taste buds. It was delicious. It was the best thing she'd ever had. She ended up finishing it all despite her stomach already being full.

"Hermione, darling, you are aware of the Malfoy's annual ball tomorrow, are you not?" Amelia asked, smiling kindly – though forcefully – at Hermione. Hermione heard Pansy groan.

"Yes ma'am, I am," she replied politely. She really didn't like the woman. It was sad to say that about one's mother, but it was true. Hermione really didn't like her. Not one bit.

"Ah, marvelous. Well then, off to bed you three. Pansy, Hermione – I will awaken you two quite early so we can look our best tomorrow. Do get plenty of rest." Amelia smiled and shooed the three children off to bed.

Pansy stood from her chair and stalked out of the room without a glance backward. Hermione stood a bit slower and frowned after her. She really didn't understand Pansy. She'd hated Hermione for years – but she'd thought that was only to impress Draco. It seemed she really _did _hate Hermione, though. And it was kind of painful. Hermione noticed Alex waiting for her and quickened her pace to walk with him upstairs.

"Are all the meals like that?" Hermione asked him, glancing back toward the dining room.

"Sadly, yes. You get used to it eventually," he shrugged. He seemed to not care much about Pansy's hatred of her family. Perhaps Hermione shouldn't either.

"Alex, where's Pansy's room again?" she asked him, looking down the hallway. She knew her room was on the opposite side of the stairs, away from the Hermione and Alex's rooms. She just couldn't remember which one.

"Fifth door on the left," he told her, pointing toward said door before walking to his room. "If you're going to try and talk to her, I suggest you don't. Things might get ugly before they get pretty."

Hermione took his words to heart – she really did. But she wanted to speak to her. She wasn't one for people rude or hurtful toward others. It just wasn't her style. She felt like she should at least check on Pansy and see if she did anything wrong.

Hermione stopped at Pansy's door and knocked. She heard a reluctant 'come in' and she pushed the door open. Pansy's room was _very _different from Hermione's and Alex's. It was covered in clothes – clothes and shoes thrown _everywhere. _Magazines were flung about, pages from magazines hung on the wall. The models in the pictures winked and waved at Hermione. Hermione ignored them. She looked toward Pansy who was lying on her stomach in the middle of her bed – which was completely black – reading a magazine. Hermione stepped a bit more into her room, nearly tripping over a stiletto of Pansy's.

Pansy finally glanced up at Hermione and her face turned cold. "Oh, it's _you._"

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, reopening her them and looking at Pansy calmly. "I just wanted to say I get why you're so mad. You don't like me – yeah I know that. I've known that for years. And you especially don't like the fact that we're sisters – or twins," she paused as Pansy glared at her, "and I understand you feel threatened."

Pansy sat up from her bed and stared at Hermione, her glare icy cold. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "You're threatened by me. You're already second to Alex and you feel like you'll become third. I noticed that during dinner."

Pansy stood up from her bed and walked over to Hermione, dangerously close to her. "You don't know _anything. _So don't start acting like you do, mudblood. You may have my family's blood running in your veins, but you're just as filthy as a Muggle. And you're just as worthless. So don't you dare start feeling sorry for me or trying to help me. I don't associate with _scum._"

Hermione stared blankly at Pansy, used to this type of comeback. She sighed and turned around, walking from Pansy's room and heading toward her own. Tomorrow would be a long day as would this summer. Hermione was in hell as of now.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I've decided to put all my disclaimers and such at the bottom. Title of this chapter is taken from the song of the same title by Lana Del Rey. Now that that's out of the way, I'd like to say Alex is my only _main _OC. But only because he's Hermione's only friend for a while. I don't plan on having Pansy and her friends immediately accept Hermione into their group. If you want the Dramione and any of the darkness immediately or anytime soon, then this is truly not the story for you. Just thought I would explain that. I'm trying to make this as realistic as possible. Also, sorry if it sucks. I wrote this at 4am on no sleep.

Thanks to my beta _siriuslypink_!

**Reviews are my cocaine – be my drug dealer? (:**


	4. Playtime For the Young and Rich

**Chapter Four: **_Playtime For the Young and Rich_

* * *

Hermione awoke with a massive headache – her head was pounding. She knew her face must be red from her crying last night, but she didn't really care. At least she didn't until her '_new'_ mother barged into her room at ten o'clock in the morning.

"Hermione, up, up, up! It's a big day for you! Your _first_ ball," Amelia smiled, trying to get Hermione out of bed. Hermione refused. She didn't want to get up. It was _much_ too early. Well, it was actually nearly lunchtime, but Hermione didn't care. Especially since she'd finally got a good night's sleep. She should cry herself to sleep more often.

"Hermione, darling," her mother cooed with a less-than-sweet smile on her face, "I will see you down for brunch in thirty minutes. Do be dressed appropriately in _day _wear."

Hermione kept her head underneath the thick comforter until she heard Amelia's heels exit her room and the door magically close behind her. She pulled her head from underneath and blinked into the dim light of her room. She mentally cursed the sun for already shining brightly and penetrating through the white curtains that shielded her windows.

Grudgingly, Hermione slipped from underneath her covers and pattered across the cool hardwood floor to her window. She ran a hand through her hair – or the rat's nest she _called_ hair – and tried to untangle some of the curls from their knots. She used her other hand to move a curtain sideways, allowing more light to enter. Squinting, Hermione took in the view of the gardens in the early morning light.

It was breathtaking.

The sky's horizon was a bright blue that faded into a lighter blue the lower it went. Due to the sun being partially hidden by the forest that acted as the back boundary of Parkinson Manor, the gardens were bathed in shadows. Light shone through small sections; illuminating assorted clumps of lilies and moon orchids in its wake. The large green shrubbery trimmed into a wide variety of shapes stood tall and mysterious in the shadows, though beautiful at the same time. Hermione would surely get used to this view.

Hermione looked away from the window as something struck her odd. She was in Parkinson Manor and she was okay with it. She was _okay _with being in a family of the dark side's manor_._ Hermione was quite ashamed of herself. She needed to contact Dumbledore. She needed to talk to him. Soon.

Hermione was started when a elf suddenly appeared before her. He bowed apologetically and looked up at her with his wide eyes, "Shim's apologies, Mistress. Shim did not mean to frighten Mistress. Shim only wishes to be of help to Mistress."

Hermione stared at the elf and chewed her lip unconsciously. She didn't want a house elf. She really didn't. She didn't believe in their slavery. She thought it to be barbaric in the worst of its ways. She was revolted by it.

But she knew Shim would only be dishonored and deeply hurt if Hermione gave him freedom or anything of the sort. So she sucked it up and decided to use his help _only _when she _most _desperately needed him. Which would possibly be now.

"It's fine, Shim. Thank-you," she smiled at the house elf, frowning as she took in its potato sack type clothing. It also revolted her and made her uneasy.

"Can Shim be of any assistance to Mistress?" the house elf asked as he stood properly once again. He seemed ready to run a marathon if Hermione so requested him to.

Hermione chewed her lip nervously before answering the elf, "Shim, would you happen to know what '_day_ _wear' _motherwas talking about?"

She hated the feeling of the word '_mother'_ on her lips. It wasn't a title fit for Amelia just yet. Or ever.

Shim looked a bit confused at this request and a tad nervous as well. He walked a bit away from Hermione before looking back at her, "Shim will show Mistress what she is to wear. Madame Parkinson said what Mistress was to wear."

Hermione mentally narrowed her eyes. So the woman had chosen her clothes, did she? Hermione would need to talk to her about this.

Hermione followed Shim into her closest (or mall – whichever you prefer) and stopped next to a long line of hangers. Hermione sighed in a relief as she noticed they were merely robes - expensive robes, sure, but still robes. Hermione could handle that.

Shim showed Hermione the selection her 'mother' had chosen and stood nervously to the side. Hermione scowled at the robes. This was quite ridiculous.

Shim stood awkwardly as he asked, "Is Shim in need of more assistance Mistress?"

Hermione kindly thanked him and dismissed him, much to her relief. She didn't like being called mistress. It made her uneasy.

Hermione walked from her closet into her rather large ensuite that adjoined her room. The bathroom was made of pure white marble – bathtub, counters, floor, and walls – all of it. The mirror seemed to have been made of diamond – the reflection was that crystal clear. Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if it _were_ made of diamond. Purebloods tended to go overboard when exploiting how much money they had.

Hermione shed her flannel - _silk _flannel - pajamas and stepped into the chosen robe, which was the color of the serpent's house –green. It wasn't a Slytherin robe (thank the Gods) but it was the same color and that spiked Hermione's temper. Did they take her for one to merely switch houses? Ignoring her temper, Hermione tried her best to fix her rat's nest. In the end she settled for a messy bun atop her head. If Amelia had a problem with it then _she _could do Hermione's hair herself.

With a sigh Hermione left her ensuite and grabbed her wand, exiting her room.

* * *

Hermione once again sat at the large oak dining table in Parkinson Manor. Her mother sat diagonal from her in a set of dark blue robes, her hair in exquisite curls that hung over her shoulders. For a woman her age she looked quite young.

To Hermione's right sat her twin sister.

Pansy was wearing black robes, her hair clashing with them as it fell over her shoulders in straight groups. Hermione had noticed Pansy's hair color over the years changing depending on her mood – brown to black. She was clearly in a bad mood.

Hermione looked down at her breakfast and slid the last piece of toast into her mouth. She had barely any appetite and she was thankful for the small meal she was given. She finished off her goblet of pumpkin juice as the dishes disappeared before them. Amelia smiled and stood with a flourish, stepping away from the table.

"Now, it is time for us to be properly pampered. Come along then," she smiled as she walked away toward the foyer. Her heels were once again making an extremely annoying sound.

Hermione and Pansy followed their mother silently, keeping a good distance between themselves and their mother. Hermione could sense Pansy wasn't too keen on this '_pampering' _either. Remembering all the magazines thrown around Pansy's room seemed a bit odd now. Did Pansy _like _balls or no? Hermione left that question undecided for now.

Amelia and the two girls stopped before a large and elaborately designed marble fireplace. Reaching into the pot of ashes that hung next to the fireplace, Amelia threw the ashes into the hearth of the fireplace and called out, "Greengrass Manor."

Hermione groaned inaudibly. Greengrass? _Daphne _Greengrass? Hermione was stuck on believing that her 'new' family wouldn't want anyone to find out about their newly acquired family member. She _was _best friends with Harry Potter after all. The 'dark side' had hated her for years now. They surely would _not _accept her easily. But it seemed her mother didn't care.

Pansy ignored Hermione and scooped up a handful of the fine grey powder, throwing it into the hearth and disappearing as her mother had. Hermione took a deep breath before following suit. She wasn't looking forward to seeing any of the Greengrass family.

* * *

Hermione landed steadily in a fireplace made of grey stone. She was thankful for not wearing heels – she surely would've toppled over. Brushing the loose soot off her robes, Hermione looked upward to see her mother, Pansy, and Mrs. Greengrass standing before her. Hermione stared in slight shock how much Daphne and her mother looked alike. Mrs. Greengrass was merely an older copy of Daphne it seemed.

The current conversation between the two elder women halted as Mrs. Greengrass became aware of Hermione's presence. She took in the full length of Hermione, judging her exterior. Hermione didn't like the look in the woman's eyes.

"Ah, so you must be Hermione," she smiled as she stepped past Amelia and hugged Hermione in a rather awkward manner. Hermione could tell the woman didn't want to. Perhaps Amelia told her to accept her or to at least _try _to. Either way it was, neither company enjoyed the hug very much.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Mrs. Greengrass continued as she pulled away, leaving her hands on Hermione's shoulders, "and I'm quite glad your mother decided to come to me for _this._"

As she said this, Mrs. Greengrass touched a long manicured fingernail to Hermione's bun atop her head. Hermione mentally scowled. She should've assumed Amelia would try to make her over someway or the other. Hermione was trying her hardest to keep her mouth shut. Before she let her temper and rash attitude show, she would give these women a chance. Until they pushed all her buttons, she would be a polite aristocrat. Until then.

"Well, shall we move on? We only have five hours until lunch and we have to, erm," Mrs. Greengrass paused, looking Hermione up and down. Hermione assumed the woman meant make her over completely.

"Well come on then, follow me," she smiled, heading out of the foyer toward a long hallway opposite them. Hermione groaned.

* * *

Greengrass Manor was located in southern England in a valley set between two large hills that were charmed to be hidden from muggle eyes. If that hadn't been the case then Hermione would've cursed herself for not remembering the stunning view – especially since the valley stood not too far from a town Hermione was entirely too familiar with. Pushing the heart-wrenching memories away, Hermione looked out the window once again.

A large circular drive surrounded a fountain in front of the manor. The stone was cracked creating that cold Victorian feel Parkinson Manor had. Hermione had assumed the outside of the manor would be just as warm and inviting as the interior, but she was quite wrong. From where she was she couldn't see all the outside walls of the manor, though she could see the roses that climbed the wall underneath her window. They were in full bloom. Mixtures of dead and growing green grass stretched for miles on either side of the manor, the sky kissing the ground with a steadily brightening blue. Lines of spruce trees created a makeshift wall on each side, stretching on to the slopes of the hills. If the trees hadn't been wilting, Hermione would've assumed the outside of the manor would've looked magnificent. Instead, it just looked dreary. Hermione wondered what it all looked like together. Her musings were interrupted by her mother's voice causing Hermione to turn away from the sight.

"Well, Clarice," her mother was speaking to Mrs. Greengrass who Hermione assumed to be named Clarice. "I don't see very many options, really. I wasn't cursed with the Shafiq family curse, of course, but I see that she is…"

Hermione caught her mother glancing at her inconspicuously – or so she thought – and raised her eyebrows. Shafiq? Curse? What did that mean?

"Amelia," the other woman began, "I see what you mean. We'll make do."

Amelia turned to Hermione and beckoned her over. Hermione was alone with the two women (Pansy had left to find Daphne) and she wasn't much liking their company. They'd been talking in whispers for the past ten minutes. It was beginning to agitate Hermione.

Hermione stopped in front of Clarice and the woman pulled her wand from her robe's pocket. She pointed it at Hermione, causing her to instinctively reach for her own wand – though too late – as the woman mumbled something and Hermione felt her hair untwist from it's updo and fall down her shoulders. What had she done? Was Hermione's hair going to be purple now? Possibly catch fire at the touch? She flinched as Clarice tsk'd and appraised her hair.

"I see what you mean, Amelia," she began, "but I have an idea on what we can do."

Hermione was confused. Clearly this women were _not _intelligent enough to harm her (She'd only _just _realized this) so were they talking about her… hair? '_Of course they would be_,' Hermione thought, 'A_melia had said they'd be 'getting ready' today.'_

"Well, come along then," Clarice smiled as she led Hermione across the small parlor they'd been standing in. Hermione hadn't looked around it much. It looked like any other sitting room – just a bit more elegant.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Greengrass," Hermione began, "what exactly are you going to do?"

Clarice smiled, "Why of course I'm going to fix your, er, problem," she gestured to Hermione's hair with a slight grimace. "No worries, dear. Your hair will look nothing less of perfection when I'm through with it."

Hermione felt slightly sick. Hermione knew pure-blooded women tended to care a lot (_Too _much) about their appearances, but Hermione had hoped they wouldn't care too much about hers. She didn't care for her hair to be perfect, make-up, and dresses – any of it. It didn't appeal to her. At _all._

Hermione followed the woman into a bathroom. The floor was a crème colored tile, the walls were a lace influenced designed wallpaper. A floor to wall mirror large enough for three people stood across them, to their right was a pink marble counter – also large enough for three people – with a mirror across the top and a single sink in the middle. A large ceramic tub sat on the left, though no toilet was in site.

Clarice turned as they entered the room and examined the walls on either side of the door, which held vials of potions. _Beauty _potions to be exact. She'd seen enough to notice the difference between them and normal potions. The most common way to tell them apart was by color and smell – they were _all _mixtures of pinks and purples and smelled strongly of flowers. It was kind of revolting to Hermione. It was enough to give anyone a headache when you were surrounded by all the smells every morning. Every girl in her dorm had a collection of _at least _fifty different kinds. She hated them all.

Hermione watched with growing dread as Clarice picked out a vial of a bright, _glowing _purple liquid. She uncorked it and Hermione caught the smell of freshly mowed grass. It wasn't a bad smell, but it wasn't heavenly either.

"Here, try this one," the woman smiled, offering Hermione the vial.

Hermione could easily summon a bezoar if this potion poisoned, but she was still cautious as she tipped it back. It tasted like a mixture of blueberries and what Hermione could only define as sunshine. She held the empty vial in her hand as she turned toward the mirror. She widened her eyes at the sight.

Hermione's face was the same as always: pale skin, a splash of freckles across her dainty nose, large chocolate brown eyes, full, pale lips, and the little furrow above her eyebrows that she always had when she thought too hard. But her hair – it was different. Gone was her frizzy mane that made her look like the Gryffindor mascot. No, her hair was _perfect. _It felt down her shoulders to the ends of her rib cage in luscious groups of straightened, _thick_ brown hair. She didn't think it possible for her hair to be… _controlled._

"What do you think?"

Hermione turned to look at Clarice who had a bright smile on her face. Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for the woman – she clearly wasn't intelligent. She could see where Daphne got if from.

Hermione looked over he shoulder in the mirror and looked at her hair. She lifted it and pulled it over one shoulder. It was heavy – it _always _was – but it looked amazing. Her part framed her face perfectly and she couldn't help but feel pretty. Maybe even beautiful.

"It's… wow," she told the elder Greengrass, turning around to look at her. She couldn't help but say an unintelligent reply.

Clarice smiled at Hermione and grabbed a light pink potion from the wall, "Would you like to try the curls? Most witches don't wear their hair so… _normal_ to balls."

Hermione looked back in the mirror at her hair before taking the offered vial. As she uncorked it she smelt fresh strawberries – and of course her mood was instantly ruined. She remembered how her mother – her pseudo mother – had loved growing strawberries in their back garden. Hermione had told her plenty of times they wouldn't grow – but they had. Hermione had helped her mother harvest them and bake them into a strawberry pound cake. Every year since she'd gone to Hogwarts she'd come back on summer break and they'd bake with the harvested strawberries. Hermione always looked for to it. And now she couldn't.

Hermione focused on her breathing and blinked rapidly to stop the tears from forming. She didn't want to think about her parents right now. Not now. Not in front of this woman. Or anyone.

Hermione lifted the vial to her mouth and downed the vial, grimacing at the bittersweet taste. It was close to being labeled as awful. She turned and looked in the mirror once again, inaudibly gasping as she watched her hair change.

Gone were her luscious locks of straight hair – her hair was a forest of bouncy curls that fell to underneath her breasts. They were voluminous and they mad her face look… royal. Her bangs swooped across her forehead and her eyes were bright. She looked stunning in her own opinion.

"I can see you prefer this one."

Hermione turned and smiled at Clarice. She did, she really did. She liked it – she _loved _it. She'd never thought she'd be giddy about her appearance or hair, but she was. She'd never cared about beauty or impressing anyone, but she felt beautiful. And she could honestly get used to the feeling.

"Thank-you," she told the woman, smiling softly. Her smile radiated beauty and confidence.

"Now we move onto make-up."

Hermione's love for her new found hair fell instantly. Make-up. She had to wear make-up. She groaned once again and followed the woman from the room. The rest of this day would go back in a baby pink colored drag.

* * *

After what felt like hours – and _was _hours – the elder Greengrass was finally pleased with Hermione's look. Hermione hadn't had a single glance of herself while the woman set the brushes magically to work. Hermione felt like a life-size Barbie.

Hermione sighed in relief as the woman stepped back from Hermione and called off the brushes. Hermione was tired of layers and layers of make-up to be caked onto her face only to be removed. It wasn't in Hermione's nature to be so willing for these types of things, but she was now. She didn't want to offend the woman. And the easier she could blend in with the pureblooded dimwits the better. Maybe she wouldn't call so much attention to herself that someone would remember who she was and ship her off to Lord Voldemort. Maybe just maybe she could play it safe and be a dumb-founded pureblood girl. She doubted it, she really did, but she could try. For now anyways.

"I believe I've finished. Your complexion is just too difficult, my dear," Clarice frowned, looking at Hermione and ordering her brushes to clear off sections that weren't erased before. Hermione felt raw from all the rubbing and removing.

"There," the woman began, "just perfect."

Hermione stood up and turned to look in the mirror of the vanity that sat next to her. They were in one of the guest rooms in the eastern wing of the manor. The room was doused in light pink and white. It made Hermione nauseous, but since her eyes were closed for most of the time, she was fine.

Looking in the mirror, Hermione gasped once again. Her hair was still in luscious curls – that Hermione _still _loved – but her face was nearly unrecognizable. Her skin – it was flawless. Her freckles were still sprinkled across her nose as always, but her skin was unflawed. The freckles stood out more, causing the focus to be on her skin. Her skin was no longer it's pale color of before, but more of a fair tan. And somehow her arms were too. Had she been tanned in the process and hadn't noticed? Possibly. Her lips were a pearly pink showing their fullness. They looked kissable – though Hermione pushed that thought away immediately. Her eyes were rimmed in a solid black eyeliner, her lashes long and curled. A golden shimmer of eye shadow settled on her eyelids and made her chocolate brown eyes pop out. Her eyebrows were perfectly sculpted and the permanent furrow in her brow seemed to be missing. She looked like a new person – she looked incredible.

Hermione smiled and noticed how white her teeth were. She hadn't realized anything had happened to them. But her smile was breathtaking. Hermione didn't like it. She didn't like it at all. It was _not _her. Not in the slightest bit. She wanted to rub it off along with her skin. She could keep the hair, sure, but that wasn't her either. She missed her frizzy-ness. She missed her untamable lion's mane. She missed her pale skin. She missed her furrowed brow. But she needed to suck it up. If she were to blend in tonight – if she were to _survive_ the night – she needed to look like every other pureblooded girl her age. She had to look like an oversized Barbie. And that was her plan.

"Thank-you," Hermione said as she turned to look at Clarice, "I love it. It's incredible."

"We've finished just in time, too. The ball is in two hours," the woman smiled as she waved her wand and sent her brushes and such back to their proper places.

Two hours? How long had Hermione been undergoing Clarice's beauty treatment? Six hours? That was basically impossible. It could _not _be five in the afternoon. To prove herself correct, Hermione walked to the window on the far side of the room and looked out. It faced the same grounds Hermione had seen earlier and she frowned as she realized the sun was already toward the western section of the sky. It _had _taken six hours. She couldn't believe it. She wasted an entire day on getting pampered – just as her mother had said.

'_Well, at least I'm like every other girl, I guess,' _Hermione thought to herself. She wasn't proud of it, but she had to fit in. And she _knew _how long it took most girls to get ready. It explained why half her dorm mates were always late to their classes or breakfast.

"Well, I believe it's time for you to head back now. Your hair nor make-up will be removed unless you drink this," as she said 'this' she handed Hermione a vial full of a clear liquid that looked curiously like Veritaserum. Hermione took it and slid it into her robes.

"Despite that, do be careful as you get dressed, please," She smiled as she led Hermione from the room and back toward the foyer she'd arrived in. Her mother – Amelia – was standing near the fireplace. It was glowing green so Hermione assumed Pansy had already gone back. Hermione didn't want to see her anyways, so that was fine with her.

"Oh, Hermione, darling," her mother gushed. Hermione didn't think Amelia could be shallow – but clearly she could be. Good-bye was her aloft 'I'm-better-than-you' attitude and in with the shallowness.

"You look amazing," she smiled at her as she took her hand. Hermione didn't understand why she was doing this until she pulled her wand from her pockets. She noticed Hermione's fearful glance and smiled, "I have to give you permission into the manor for you to enter this way."

Hermione nodded in understanding and watched as Amelia mumbled something under her breath. Hermione felt a pleasant lightness settle on her as she turned to the fireplace and grasped a handful of floo powder. She threw it into the fire & called out "Parkinson Manor". In a swirl of green, she was gone.

* * *

Hermione stood in her too big walk in closest as she examined herself in the floor to ceiling length mirror. She didn't look like herself. And she hated it. She didn't like dresses – she _hated _dresses actually. She despised them strongly. And heels – she couldn't stand them. But the ones Alex had picked out – well, she could tolerate. Barely, but she could. And she couldn't help but mentally thank Alex a hundred times. He'd somehow noticed her hatred of dresses and had chosen the least gaudy out of them all. The heels though, now that was her doing. And they were probably higher on the gaudy list. They were the only pair that matched, though. So Hermione had to suffice with a spell that would comfort her feet and help her walk easier. Still, it was difficult.

"Knock-knock," Alex called from the hallway as he stepped into her room. She hadn't seen him all day and she automatically felt calmer hearing him. She didn't even him that well but his presence automatically helped calm her. And she liked that.

"In here," she called to him as she examined herself in the mirror again. She was no longer Hermione Jean Granger. No, she was Hermione Evelyn Parkinson. She was a pureblooded, dimwitted witch. Or at least she looked that way.

"We're about to leave – whoa," he stopped as he spotted Hermione. His eyes widened a fraction as he took her in – her hair, her face, and her body. She'd probably feel awkward if he weren't her brother, but she could tell he wasn't looking at her in complete awe or lust. He was just stunned. Completely and utterly stunned.

"You look amazing," he told her, immediately smiling and hugging her. He was dressed in a set of black dress robes that he pulled off just as well as Hermione pulled off her dress.

"Thank-you, you do too," she blushed slightly. _Perfect, _Hermione told herself. Blushing made her look less innocent. He looped his arm with hers and smiled once again as he noticed her height difference.

"Either you're wearing six-inch heels or you had a massive growth spurt since last night," he told her as he dragged her with him out of her closet. Her heels clacked on the hard wood of her room as he led her into the corridor.

"Don't remind me of the heels," she groaned as she looked down at them. They _were _in fact six-inch heels. Instead of her normal 5'5" height she was 5'11", only a few inches shorter than Alex. She couldn't say she hated being taller. She actually liked it. She felt older – more mature. But of course tonight she couldn't be that – _too _mature. She had to play down her intelligence some. She had to fake _a lot _tonight. And she would succeed.

Alex smiled at her as they walked down the stairs toward the glowing green fireplace. She assumed the rest of their family had already left, thus leaving the two of them alone.

"Don't you have a date?" she asked Alex as they stopped in front of the fireplace and grabbed their floo powder.

"Mom told me to take you instead since this was your first ball. You alright with that?" he asked her before he threw his powder in and called out "Malfoy Manor".

Hermione didn't get a chance to answer before she followed his suit and called out "Malfoy Manor" herself. She was whisked away in a column of green flames.

* * *

Hermione caught her balance using Alex. She set her hands on his shoulders as she stumbled out of the fireplace and into a dimly lit room. The temperature had _definitely _dropped at least ten degrees. She shivered involuntarily as she smiled apologetically at Alex and stood straight. She didn't like traveling via floo with heels on.

Hermione good hear music from somewhere off in the distance and the conversation of a large group of guests. She'd nearly forgotten this was Malfoy's house until she noticed the darkness of the room. Nearly everything was bathed in shadows and the furniture was all a dark hickory wood. The accents were nearly _all _silver. It bothered her how the room radiated darkness. It radiated _evil. _Hermione's plan of blending in didn't seem too possible now. She'd nearly forgotten this would be in Malfoy Manor – the home of one of Voldemort's right hand men. She wouldn't be surprised if Voldemort himself were in the manor this very second. Hermione pushed that thought away.

"Let's get this over with," Hermione grumbled under her breath, unaware that Alex could hear her.

"I agree completely," he smirked at her and connected his arm with hers as he led her from the dark room.

They stepped into a dimly lit corridor about twice as long as the corridor that Hermione and Alex's room came off of in Parkinson Manor. She'd known Malfoy had money – of course she did. _Everyone _did. But this hallway alone showed how much he had. Pure gold and silver accents hung on the dark red walls. Portraits of Malfoy ancestors lined the walls. Each of them had the signature silvery-white Malfoy hair and smirk. It made Hermione uneasy. But she could handle it.

The further they walked down the corridor, the louder the sound got. Hermione could see bright light at the end of the corridor – she assumed the foyer and off of that – the ballroom. She wasn't looking forward to it, but she knew she had to fake a lot tonight. She had no doubts that a lot the people below them would know her. She was the mysterious Parkinson daughter. She was also one of the three most wanted teenage wizards. Wanted by half the elder men below. Including the owner of this manor. Hermione immediately stopped that thought. She could _not _think about that. She _had _to try and fit in. She had to try _hard. _

"Ready?" Alex asked her as they stepped closer to the light. She could hear a rumbling of voices below and realized already that a large group of people were in the foyer. She could hear an even larger group somewhere ahead of them and below, but she knew a wide variety of people would be standing below them as they walked down the stairs too. With a deep breath, she smiled at Alex and nodded.

Alex turned as they came into the light and led Hermione down the single grand staircase that led down to the first floor. It was a dark mahogany finish with a maroon colored carpet in the center. The walls were the same wallpaper the corridor was. Silver holders for the torches lined the wall as did hundreds of silver decorations for the ball. Muggle streamers wrapped around the railings and hung in between the torches. It looked like the Yule Ball all over again. And felt like it too.

Hermione held onto Alex's arm tightly - afraid of tripping – as they descended the staircase. She tried to avoid looking into the hundreds of eyes that were now fixated on her, but she couldn't. She kept looking into matriarchs' eyes – blushing as she realized how stunning they looked even for elder women – and meeting elder men's eyes. When she connected eyes with a few guys her own age, she blushed brightly. They were openly gawking at her. She didn't like it. She didn't like all the attention. And obviously her sister didn't either.

Pansy stood with Daphne and a girl that could be only Astoria – Daphne's younger sister – as well as with the three Slytherin boys that had been at Parkinson Manor the previous day. Pansy's hair was styled into an elegant updo, leaving two single curls framing her face. Her hair was a lighter brown now (Obviously her temper had calmed down) and her light blue, strapless dress that seemed a bit _too _short hugged her curves perfectly. She looked nothing short of stunning.

Daphne's hair was it's normal luscious look of chocolatey, straight locks. They fell to below her breasts and covered the straps of her bright red ball gown. The front of the dress was covered in dazzling rubies that sparkled in the torchlight when she turned. Her cherry red lips stuck out, complimenting her fair skin. Hermione felt that Alex was mildly lucky. He could've ended up with someone much less… _attractive._

The three Slytherin boys – Draco, Blaise, and Theo – were all wearing signature black dress robes. Draco's shock of silvery-white hair seemed to glow in the torchlight and made him stand out more than he usually did. And the way he stared at Hermione in blank astonishment made him look like Prince Charming – the Prince Charming who just spotted his Cinderella.

Theo looked slightly different than how Hermione had previously seen him. His eyes were widened slightly and his arms weren't crossed. He looked less defensive – less intimidating. Hermione liked the look of being relaxed on him. It suited him. But the way his eyes lazily strolled up and down her form was unnerving.

Blaise looked the same as always – dark skin and a dark facial expression. He seemed to blend in with the shadows. He didn't want to be noticed and he didn't really care about Hermione's entrance. He only seemed bored.

Hermione had to admit that the group of Slytherins were all impeccably styled. They looked like muggle models. She felt slightly jealous. And she could tell the girls felt the same way about her.

Hermione came back to herself as Pansy grimaced and turned on her heel, heading toward the ballroom with the rest of the Slytherins at her heels. Hermione didn't understand why everyone was staring. She didn't understand why Pansy seemed so distraught either. She glanced down at her ensemble in case there was something wrong with her outfit.

Hermione's rich locks were in their curls that stopped beneath her breasts, their volume still remaining despite it being half a day later than when they'd been styled. Her make-up was impeccable – her golden eye shadow glinting in the dim light as she walked and her pearl pink lips looking as full and kissable as ever. But her dress was what caught the eyes of her admirers. The mid-sleeved white, lace-accented gown stopped mid-thigh and had a scooped neckline. The backless portion of her dress showed her new – _impossible – _tan and complimented her figure. Her six-inch white heels kept the whole look together. She was stunning. She was beautiful. She was _perfect. _

Hermione's cheeks were crimson as she descended the stairs, her admirer's finally turning away from her and continuing their conversations. She could hear whispers of the "Mysterious Parkinson daughter" and couldn't help but blush brighter. She told herself it was all for show, but it wasn't. She was embarrassed with all the attention she was receiving. It made her uneasy. She didn't like it. At least she _thought _she didn't. She shoved that thought out of her mind as Alex led her toward an impeccably dressed woman with a shock of bleached blonde hair. She turned toward them with a bright, welcoming smile.

"Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy," Alex bowed a fraction to the woman. Hermione openly gawked at her. She'd never seen Draco's mother before that she could recall. She probably had seen her at Kings Cross a few times, but if she had she'd never _really _seen her. Narcissa Malfoy had a face you could _not _forget. She didn't have the signature Black family look, but she did inherit the Black families' good looks. Her bleach blonde hair fell in gentle waves and her crystal blue eyes stood out against her fair skin with a sparkle. Her features were perfectly proportioned and her figure was thin and tall – she made Hermione jealous despite her being an elder woman.

"Ah, Alex, it's been quite sometime. How is Durmstrang treating you? I've been thinking of sending Draco for his final two years, but Lucius is disagreeing as always. He claims Karkaroff is unfit to run such a school," Narcissa replied, her blue eyes twinkling as she glanced over and examined Hermione.

"And you must be Hermione," she smiled as she offered her hand. Hermione shook it and smiled politely. She had no doubt that Narcissa Malfoy knew who she was. Her husband _was _a Death Eater after all.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione said as she smoothed out her dress. She was feeling uneasy in the woman's presence.

"Draco has told me much about you," she told her as she glanced toward the ballroom as if searching for her said son. "I do hope you are adjusting well to your new home and life. The Parkinson family are our closest friends and I expect to see you around quite often this summer."

Hermione blanched a bit. She didn't need to guess what Draco had said about her. She also didn't want to come around to Malfoy Manor anymore than necessary. Just because of her newly found bloodline didn't mean Draco Malfoy would be suddenly accepting of her. He hated her.

"Well, I must entertain my guests now. You look dashing as always, Alex," Narcissa winked at him and he smiled politely in return. "You look nothing short of beautiful, Hermione. I do believe you'll have a large amount of gentleman callers this evening."

Hermione blushed at Narcissa's comment and thanked her politely as her and Alex stepped away from the woman. He led her with him toward the ballroom. He looked over at her and smiled softly,

"Narcissa seems to like you. And she doesn't like many people."

"She was just being polite," Hermione told him as she smoothed her dress out again. She was aware of eyes following her on their way to the ballroom entrance and she was feeling uneasy. She didn't like this much attention.

Alex stopped at the entrance of the room and smiled over at Hermione once again, his eyes shining playfully in the light.

"Let's dance little sister."

* * *

**Author's Note: **This chapter is two-in-one. Title of the chapter is from the song _City Is At War _by Cobra Starship. I wanted to say thank-you _so _much for the feedback this story has gotten so far. Reviews make me want to write more. Sorry if posting slows down - busy life. **This chapter has _not _been beta'd.**

**Reviews are my cocaine – be my drug dealer? (:**


	5. Diamonds Aren't Forever

**Chapter Five: **_Diamonds Aren't Forever_

* * *

"Four? You can_not _be serious, Alex."

Hermione was sitting atop her brother's bed Indian style. After last night, she should've known better than to sit in such an unladylike manner. Too bad Hermione really did not care.

Alex's face was red from his intense laughter and he struggled for breath as he answered her, "Hermione, despite you only knowing me for like, two days, would I lie to you?"

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest in defiance as Alex got his laughter and facial expressions under control. He'd been rolling around on his floor for the past ten minutes in an entirely _un_-sophisticated way. He hadn't been able to stop laughing. Now he sat Indian style on his floor mirroring Hermione as he stared up at her.

"I don't believe you," she told him with determination in her eyes. She was _not _going to let him lie to her like this. Especially not over this. It was preposterous of her to believe him.

"Hermione," Alex began as he stared at her with an intense expression of sincerity, "I overheard mother and father discussing it last night after we arrived home. Due to your, erm, _state of mind, _you surely wouldn't remember any of it."

Hermione blushed slightly as she recalled their arrival home last night. She'd never expected purebloods to be ones to stay out at balls until two in the morning, but well, she was proven otherwise. She also never expected to be highly affected by alcohol in such a way either.

"I only had two glasses," she mumbled in protest as Alex's face glowed red with his attempt to hold back his laughter. He'd had to look after her and get her safely to bed once they'd gotten home. From what he had told her, it was _not _an easy task.

"That's not the point," Alex sighed as he once again recovered from his fit of laughing. "I heard them talking and my guess is that by the end of today you'll be engaged."

Hermione all but screamed. She groaned and flopped backward onto Alex's bed. She stared upward into the canopy of his bed and pulled her hair – that was still in its curls – with both her hands.

"Hey, it's not all bad. At least you have some decent suitors. You're not promised to Daphne Greengrass," he told her with a smile that she could hear in his voice. She'd forgotten about his engagement to Daphne. She felt bad for him.

"I've been a Parkinson for two days, Alex," she began, "I'm not ready to be engaged. I don't even believe in arranged marriage. I don't even believe in our parent's choices of whom they follow in this war. This is just ridiculous. It's outrageous."

Hermione heard Alex stand up and felt pressure on the bed where he sat on the edge. She knew it wasn't his fault, but at the moment she just wanted someone to blame. She wanted someone to yell at.

"Hey, it's not all that bad re-"

Hermione cut Alex off as she sat up, "You wouldn't know. Your parents didn't give you up. _Our _parents didn't give you up. I'm not even sure _why _I was given up. Why keep just Pansy? Why just you and her? Why not me? Why was I given away in the first place? Did I not fit the requirements of a perfect pureblooded baby? Was that it? Because I would like to know."

Alex examined his fingernails as Hermione glared daggers into the side of his head. He knew it best just to let people get their anger out when this type of situation happened. He planned on doing just that, too.

Hermione continued on without a beat, "You weren't called 'mudblood' for nearly six years. You didn't experience the pain of that word. You also didn't have to find out that the pain was for _nothing. _You didn't have to find out that the reasons for your choice in the war were all based on a _lie._ You don't have to fake either. You don't have grown women playing with you like you're a full-grown Barbie doll or something. You don't have to be dolled up for a night you don't even want to attend. You don't have to fake your knowledge or fake that you're enjoying yourself. You're not living a _complete lie. _So don't you _dare _tell me it's 'not that bad'. Because it sure as hell is."

With her rant finished, Hermione left her brother's room in a flourish of shimmering red robes.

* * *

Hermione was having a hard time staring out into the gardens with tears blurring her vision. The streaks of rain that slid down the windowpanes reflected her mood perfectly. She felt horrible. She felt like hell.

"This is ridiculous," Hermione told herself as she pulled her legs up to her chest and hugged her knees. She didn't want to feel like this. She deserved it, though. She'd actually enjoyed herself last night. She truly had. She'd forgotten all about her parent's death for the amount of time that the ball lasted. Now this was her punishment. It didn't help that she felt completely awful for yelling at Alex as well.

Hermione rubbed her thumbs under her eyes as more tears escaped. She felt utterly pathetic. Here she was, sitting in a darkened study on a dusty window seat staring into the rain. She was freezing but she felt like she deserved it. She wasn't going to use magic to help herself right now. It was her fault her parents were dead.

Hermione jumped as a door slammed below. She doubted any of her 'family' could find her here. She was on the uppermost floor of Parkinson Manor. By the layers of dust and cobwebs that covered this room, Hermione knew it hadn't been used in quite sometime. It was exactly why she was in here rather than her own room. She didn't feel like being found or bothered.

Hermione traced a falling raindrop with one of her fingers on the window. She couldn't remember how long she'd been up here. It'd been dark out all day due to the storm. The sun could've set hours ago and she wouldn't of known. Now that she thought about it, the sun probably _had _set already.

Hermione lifted her wand and mumbled a spell as she once again wiped her tears away with her thumb. A glowing green light in the air next to her read 8:47pm. She'd been up here for nearly eleven hours. She'd been mourning her pseudo parent's death for eleven hours and crying over every minor detail in her life. No wonder her head was pounding.

Hermione stretched her legs out as she stood from the window seat. Her legs were stiff from no movement for so long. She was also suddenly aware of her hunger. She hadn't eaten since this morning.

"_You deserved it though," _she thought to herself.

Hermione wiped under her eyes once again as she headed toward the door on the opposite side of the room. The room was nearly doused in pitch-black darkness. It explained why she tripped over something and went sprawling. Hermione caught herself with her hands, a shock shooting through her wrists. She turned to look behind her at what she had tripped over with blurry eyes. The fall hadn't been painful, but she couldn't stop crying. She felt miserable.. It just was _not _her day.

Hermione whispered "_lumos_" as she pointed her wand at the bulky object she'd tripped over. She brushed her hand over it and pulled it toward her, squinting at the title through her tears. It was a book, that much was obvious. What kind of book, though, she didn't know. The title was faded and the book was caked over with dust. The book held an aura though… a powerful aura. It was clearly a magical book – a spell book most likely.

Hermione extinguished her wand as she picked up the book. She carefully laid it upon the table that she could just barely see from the dim light coming from the window. She wasn't in the mood to read.

Hermione slipped from the attic room of Parkinson Manor and headed toward the stairs closest to her room. She descended them quickly as she looked down the hall for any sign of her family. Due to the manor being so big, she doubted she would see them. If she were going to see anyone, though, it would be Alex. She really did _not_ want to see him. She couldn't face him after her outburst. She felt childish.

Hermione reached her door and slipped inside, grateful for the fire that was still glowing in its hearth from this morning. It seemed that Shim had been in earlier to clean, but otherwise her room was untouched.

Hermione skipped her room and headed straight into her en suite. She took a relaxing shower before downing the potion that would erase the remains of last night from her body. She didn't think she would ever be as relieved to seeing her bushy hair as she was in that moment. She felt a bit better now. The short silk nightgown she wore didn't necessarily help, though.

Grabbing _Romeo & Juliet_ once more, Hermione sat in the plush armchair she'd sat in previously before. The fireplace was close enough to her that she could feel the heat of the fire. This would surely make her feel at least slightly better.

* * *

After only thirty minutes of reading, Hermione couldn't handle it anymore. She dropped the book in her chair and grabbed the robe that she'd left on the back of the chair. She pulled it on as she padded across her room and into the corridor. It was about 9:30, but she was sure no one was asleep just yet. That would be just absurd.

Hermione looked around the semi-darkened corridor before she headed down the hall to the only other occupied room. The booming thunder outside shook the floors as she walked. She was surprised the manor didn't have wards protected the house from that type of vibration.

Taking her mind away from magic for a second, Hermione knocked on Alex's door. Hearing his muffled "Come in", she entered cautiously. She wrapped the robe around her tighter as she saw him sprawled in the middle of his bed with a book halfway hidden underneath him. It was a half hazard attempt obviously.

Ignoring his muggle reading, Hermione walked toward him and stopped a few feet away. She couldn't tell if he was angry or not – she could only hope he wasn't.

"I'm sorry," she began as she crossed her arms in an attempt to keep herself moving, "for earlier. It's not your fault. Really, it isn't. I just – I, I don't know. I just blew up earlier. I don't want you to hate me and I really hope you don't. You're my only friend right now. I haven't heard my other friends – or Dumbledore even – so I'm completely alone. I don't know anything about this world – only from books, I guess. And I don't want to be alone. I really don't. So please, forgive me."

Alex stared blankly at Hermione before he slid off his bed and stepped toward her, enveloping her in a hug. Hermione wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his shoulder. Her relief was evident as her body completely relaxed.

"I was never mad, Hermione. I tried looking for you afterwards but I couldn't find you. I gave up eventually. You needed time alone, I know. But I wasn't mad, don't think that. You're my sister – I'll always be here for you," Alex told her as he pulled back from the held and held her at arms length.

With a smile, Hermione wiped the tear that had escaped. She was relieved. She wasn't _completely _alone right now. She at least had _some_one. Even if it was her brother that she'd only met two days ago – she had someone.

"Thanks, Alex," she smiled before stepping around him and lifting the book he had underneath him when she'd walked in. She looked at the cover of the book and raised her eyebrows in shock, "Manga? _Muggle _manga?"

Alex blushed slightly before he reached for the graphic novel and pulled it from her grasp, "It's research. You know, so I can figure out how to wipe out the entirety of the muggle race."

Hermione shook her head as she smiled. She knew Alex didn't believe in any of the blood purity crap that he spewed around their parents and other adults. He'd nearly terrified her last night when he was around his school friends and other adults. He'd been cornered at one point to be recruited into Voldemort's order. Hermione had left his company when that happened.

"Wanna play chess?" he asked her as he slid the book into his bookshelf behind a large burgundy book labeled in Greek. Alex confused her, he really did. She was glad she met him, though. She liked mysteries.

"Sure," she smiled to him as she followed him from his room and toward the closest study. She felt immensely better now.

* * *

Hermione awoke to an odd sound – a snore. She opened her eyes and sat up, searching around her for any sign of where she was. She didn't know _where _she was. _Where was she?_

Hermione looked to her right and scooted automatically to the left as she spotted a sleeping body. She automatically relaxed as she noticed Alex's light brown messy tresses. She looked around the room again and realized she was in his room – in his bed. Neither of them were under the covers so clearly this hadn't happened on purpose.

Hermione suddenly remembered last night. It was the most fun she'd had in a few weeks – especially the last week. She'd been most of the night beating Alex miserably in the barbaric game of Wizard's Chess and the other half of the night showing him how to reach muggle Japanese manga. He understood it quite well, actually. They must've fallen asleep reading one.

Rubbing her eyes, Hermione stood from his bed and glanced toward the window. The sun was shining brightly through the curtains so it was at least nine A.M. With a yawn, Hermione carefully left his room without a sound. She didn't want to wake him.

As Hermione closed the door to her room behind her, she nearly screamed as Shim appeared behind her.

"Shim did not mean to startle, Mistress. Shim is sorry, Mistress. Shim only wishes to help Mistress," the house elf apologized as he bowed deeply to her. She waved it off hurriedly. She didn't want to deal with a servant. She didn't want one. It was bothering her.

"It's fine Shim, really. It's fine, I'm fine. Do you need something?" she asked him as she looked down at him. Maybe she would spend the day with him and try and talk him into working for money. Perhaps he'd be willing, perhaps he wouldn't be. She could at least try.

"Madame tells Shim to help Mistress pack," the house elf squeaked as he twiddled his thumbs and scrunched the fabric of his potato sack type clothing. Hermione itched to give him a sock – she wanted him free and out of that horrid bag.

"What do you mean pack, Shim?" she asked with growing alarm. Were they already sending her away? She suddenly remembered her and Alex's conversation yesterday – she was probably engaged right now.

"Mistress is to be staying at Malfoy Manor with Mistress Pansy for the week, Ma'am," Shim told her as he straightened his "clothing". Hermione nearly fainted at his words.

"Malfoy Manor? Draco Malfoy? Will Alex be coming?" she asked Shim as she slowly began to feel nauseous. A week in Malfoy's home? Malfoy – the boy who had tortured her for the past five years of her life and who had a father in Voldemort's inner circle. She would be murdered. That was it. She was to be killed.

"Yes, Mistress. Master Draco has requested you and Mistress Pansy for the week," he told her as he stared up at her with his wide eyes. Draco wanted her there? _Of course, to kill you, _she told herself.

"When do we leave?" she asked Shim as she looked around her room for a possible plan of escape. Did Parkinson Manor have any serious wards surrounding its boundaries? She needed to find out.

"When Mistress is ready with packed robes, Ma'am," he told her as he fiddled with his potato sack once again.

With a sigh, Hermione headed toward her en suite and closet, "I guess we should pack then, Shim."

* * *

**Author's Note: **The title of this chapter is from the song of the same title by the band Bring Me the Horizon.

I am _so _sorry for no updating. I've been stressed with finishing school and my multiple piano recitals and competitions. School is done this Wednesday and I'll have about two weeks before I leave for California (Here I come Laguna Beach!) so I'll try my best to write a good deal. I'm also sorry for the short chapter! Thank you _so _much for the feedback, though.

Ten reviews will most likely bring you a new chapter in the next two days, _*hint, hint*._

**This chapter was **_**not**_** beta'd.**

**Reviews are my cocaine – be my drug dealer? (:**


	6. Fear and the Fate

**Chapter Five: **_Fear and the Fate_

* * *

Hermione wasn't sure how she ended up in the attic once again. It seemed to be a comforting place to her now. Maybe she'd be up here quite often. If that were the case, she'd need to clean some. The spider webs were bothering her.

Hermione smoothed her Byzantium colored robes as she headed back toward the door that would lead her downstairs and to the Malfoy's. She spoke with her mother, as she was packing, only to be told that this was such an occasion that she should use a few of the potions Mrs. Greengrass had given her. Hermione had stared blankly before complying with Mommy Dearest's wishes.

Dressed in a dark purple set of robes and a pair of three-inch black heels – the _only _pair shorter than six-inch - she had decided upon a potion to straighten her bushy hair. Her golden brown hair now fell down to the ends of her rib cage in perfectly straight tresses. She'd decided to do only minimal make-up since she wasn't too good at it in the first place. She guessed she looked beautiful. She didn't really care, though. She hadn't even looked in the mirror since she'd gotten ready.

Hermione dragged herself across the dust-doused room toward the entrance to her soon-to-be Hell. She wasn't ready to face Pansy – or the Malfoy family – so when her eyes fell upon the large black book that had caused her a decent amount of pain the previous day, she was glad her curiosity forced her to stop.

Brushing her fingers over the cover, she once again felt the surge of power that resonated within the octavo. Due to the weight of the book, Hermione had to use both hands to lift the book off the table. Dusting the cover off, she searched for the title. When she found none on the direct front, she tried the spine. Nothing.

Cautiously – because the book seemed so old and brittle – Hermione flipped the book open to the first page. Nothing. She turned to the next still to find nothing. The next three pages were just as blank. On the sixth page, the single word "_Merlinus" _graced the page.

"Merlin in Latin?" Hermione mused aloud as she flipped through the next couple of pages only to find them blank. After five more pages of emptiness, a page scribbled in runes appeared. It didn't shock Hermione, of course, but the writing did. It was ancient writing – it was old. It was a dead language, basically. A dead _wizarding _language, to be exact. It was something Merlin himself used.

"Could it be?" she whispered as she flipped five more pages to the next page that was scrawled in runes. It was – or at least she thought it was. The Parkinson's wouldn't have it just thrown in an attic to collect dust if it were in fact the one book Hermione Granger knew to avoid.

Then again, it probably wasn't it.

"It wouldn't hurt to check it out…" Hermione told herself as she tucked the book close to her and left the cobweb filled attic. If it were in fact the single book she knew not to read, she wouldn't read it. It was that simple. She needed to be certain, though. It wasn't often you came across a book that resonated such a powerful aura.

Hermione hurriedly hid the book within her things as she reached her room. Shim appeared just as the book was properly concealed within her things. The rush of adrenaline she felt from being nearly caught made her think this over. Perhaps she shouldn't have taken the book?

"Madame Amelia wishes for Mistresses to leave now," her house elf squeaked up to her as he looked toward the door that led into the corridor. Hermione sighed and waved her wand to get her bags before Shim stopped her.

"Shim gets Mistresses' things. Mistress only walk," the elf told Hermione. She smiled kindly at him despite the fact that she still hated him doing things for her.

"Shall we?" Hermione asked as she followed the sound of the floo into the corridor with her elf and belongings behind her. It was time to face her demented twin sister and her fiancée.

* * *

Stumbling once again as she had previously the day before last, Hermione caught herself. The temperature was once again ten degrees colder. She was starting to believe that all of the evil and darkness in the manor caused its foreboding temperature.

Looking around the darkened room, she wasn't shocked to find herself in the same room she'd arrived in previously before. Only this time she wasn't with Alex – she was with her 'mother' and her _non compos mentis _twin sister.

Hermione followed after Pansy whom followed their mother. She could hear the voice of her mother and Narcissa Malfoy before she saw them. Coming out into the hallway, Hermione noticed it was significantly brighter than it had been previously. Perhaps it was due to it being late morning now rather than evening. She wasn't sure; all she knew was that she preferred it at night. The red walls of the corridor seemed more like freshly spilt blood now.

"…west wing," Narcissa was finishing telling Amelia as Hermione stepped into the hall after Pansy. Narcissa smiled pleasantly at Hermione and spoke with a polite and calm tone, "Ah, how nice to see you again Hermione, darling. I was hoping dear Draco would invite you a long as well. I was looking forward to spending some time with you," she smiled once again as she turned on her heel and led the way down the corridor.

Hermione followed after in shock and with caution etched onto her features. Narcissa Malfoy – the Malfoy matriarch – wanted to speak to _her?_ _Probably about my untimely demise, _she thought to herself. She barely noticed Pansy's revolted and seemingly hurt glare as she followed after the women.

Narcissa stopped midway through her conversation with Amelia and looked over her shoulder to Pansy with an oddly sweet smile, "Oh, Pansy dear, Draco and the others are in his room. I believe you know where it is since he's moved it for the thousandth time?"

Pansy smiled politely and began walking past the women with a "Yes ma'am," only to be stopped by their mother,

"Pansy, dear, wait for Hermione as well."

Hermione's heart sank. She honestly rather stay in the matriarch's presence than her sons. From the sound of 'others', she only assumed the group of Slytherins who'd she'd seen earlier that week were that once again. She didn't care to see them again. Their constant teasing and such was getting annoying. She found it hard to believe that Draco invited her, now.

"If you don't mind, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione spoke up before it was too late, "I'd like to get settled in bef-"

"Nonsense," Narcissa cut her off with a wave of her hand and a seemingly forced smile, "the elves will do that for you. Go ahead with Pansy. I wouldn't want to spoil your fun, now would I?"

_No, you just want my death to come sooner rather than later, obviously, _she thought to herself as she followed after Pansy who wore a sardonic smile on her face. Why her mother thought it was a good idea for her to spend a _week _at Malfoy Manor was lost to her. Was she daft or did she just not care that the group of snakes hated her immensely?

"Come on then, _sister," _Pansy all but spat as she continued on down the corridor. Instead of going downstairs as she had previously before, they continued to the opposite corridor. This hall was just the same – blood red walls, golden and silver accents and portraits of pale men with white blond hair. The Malfoy family really loved looking at themselves.

Instead of stopping at one of the rooms on the hall, the duo ascended a staircase to the third floor. This hall was much shorter and with a dark, Slytherin green for the wall color instead of a dark bloody red. The walls were bare save for torches spaced periodically along the walls in glimmering silver holders. The window seat at the end of the hall was the main source of light. Hermione thought of heading straight for it when Pansy suddenly stopped and Hermione nearly ran into the back of her. With a glare toward Hermione, Pansy opened the door and entered the room. Hermione begrudgingly followed.

The room was huge – not just big, but _huge. _It was easily twice the size of her room. There wasn't enough _in _the room for it to be so big, but it was. It seemed to be a replica of the Slytherin dorms – though Hermione honestly wouldn't know, only guessed – full of Slytherins to match. Daphne Greengrass lounged atop Draco's California king-sized bed with a fashion magazine directly in front of Hermione. Instead of dark green, his sheets were dark ebony. Hermione could only imagine the strong contrast between the color of the bed and Draco's snow-white skin. The image made her mentally laugh. To the far right of his bed lie three Slytherin green couches that the remaining Slytherins lounged upon. Draco had his legs crossed at the ankles and an arm draped over the back of the couch while Blaise sat across him on the opposite couch with his elbows on his knees. The remaining Slytherin – Theo – was splayed out on the last couch with a book in his hands. His face told her he'd rather be anywhere but there. Hermione didn't understand why he hung out with them, really. He seemed to be more of the loner type in her opinion.

She was brought back from her observation of Draco's room as Pansy dropped to the couch next to Draco into the crook of his arm. He didn't move from her but instead continued his conversation with Blaise. That is until they noticed Hermione standing in the doorway. Blaise stared blankly before he realized it was – in fact – Hermione Granger.

"Damn Granger," he whistled, as he looked her up and down. She stared blankly and in slight shock at him. Did Blaise Zabini just check her out?

"I don't think that title is entirely true, anymore," she told him as she crossed her arms over chest. She was beginning to feel self conscious and defensive. She hadn't looked in the mirror that day, after all. She hadn't wanted to. She was beginning to already hate looking different.

"Damn Parkinson," he corrected himself as he continued to let his eyes travel across her body. She 'hmphed' and looked away from the dark-skinned boy. He was only being somewhat 'nice' – if you could call it that – because of the way she looked. She preferred to earn her respect through personality, not looks.

Theo finally looked up from his book and looked Hermione up and down with a look of no emotion. He didn't seem entirely too interested in their exchange or her. He looked back to his book after an onceover of her body. He clearly saw nothing he liked.

Last of the Slytherin men was Draco Malfoy – Hermione's utmost _favorite. _He stared at her for a moment before his signature smirk covered his features. Hermione could tell he wanted to call her mudblood, only he couldn't.

"Come up with a new insult yet, Malfoy?" she teased him as she glared at him. She didn't want to be here. Her temper was rising just being in the same room as him. This boy could push her buttons like no one else. How was she to spend a week with him? _That's right, I'm not. I'll be dead within the next two days, _she reminded herself. This thought oddly comforted her.

"You must give good aspersions time, Gra-_Parkinson," _he corrected himself as he continued to smirk at her. He was looking over his shoulder slightly at her as he kept his arm over the back of the couch and around Pansy. Pansy was sneering at Hermione with utmost dislike. It didn't faze Hermione, though.

"Oi, Nott, move over for the not-so-much mudblood," Zabini told the boy who was still finding more interest in his book than the exchange between the two. Hermione would've thought, differently though. It wasn't often that Draco Malfoy _didn't _jump at the chance to offend Hermione Granger nee _Parkinson. _

Theodore Nott didn't glance up from his book as she pulled his legs toward him, leaving Hermione a space at the end of the couch. She didn't move toward it, though. She was still standing with her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at Malfoy.

"And what's the catch?" she asked him as she glanced at Blaise Zabini who was still checking her out. Was she half-naked or something? There was no need for him to do that. It was seriously pissing her off, now.

"Catch?" he asked her with his smirk still in place. She wanted to slap it off his face, now. "There _is _no cat-"

Draco was cut off as Daphne Greengrass finally noticed Hermione, "Hermione! You looked _amazing _at the ball. You're coming to my birthday tomorrow, right?"

Hermione uncrossed her arms as she stared blankly at the Greengrass girl. Sure she knew she was daft, but as daft as to automatically accept Hermione and invite her to her party? That was a bit too far. Hermione really had no reply to that.

"You can be my date," Blaise told her as he smirked arrogantly at her. He was slowly beginning to creep her out. Was he really trying to hit on her? Here? Now? He'd only just found out three days ago that she _wasn't _a muggleborn. Were they that daft to only hate her for her blood? Hermione wouldn't put it past them.

"You're taking Astoria, though," Daphne piped up as she slid her legs off the side of bed and stared at Blaise confused. She really _was _quite stupid.

"Unless your sister can make simple robes look _this _hot, I don't think so," he told her as he finally lifted his gaze from Hermione to look at the Greengrass heir.

"Who even said I was going?" she finally spoke up, causing the two to look at her. Theo was still absorbed in his book and the couple on the couch was still staring at her – one glaring, one smirking.

"You have to, though. Arnold just will _not _stop talking about you since last night. Neither will Tristan!" she pleaded as she stood up off the bed. Hermione wanted to hit her head against the wall. Daphne just really was not very intelligent and it showed plainly just as the sun in the sky.

"Who…?" she asked before being cut off by – oddly enough – Theo.

"Two of your suitors. Arnold is Daphne's older brother. They're Durmstrang boys. Completely full of themselves if you ask me," he muttered without looking up from his book. Hermione slightly blushed as she heard the word "suitors". How many did she have? Alex had said she'd had at least four requests for her hand in marriage. Were there more?

"No one asked you, though," Daphne spat toward the boy. He glanced at her over his book before withdrawing from the conversation. He obviously was no longer interested.

"Plus," Malfoy began, causing Hermione to look toward him and recross her arms," you can either go or stay here with my father for company. I hear he's having some friends over for company."

Hermione's stomach dropped slightly. She'd nearly forgotten where she was. She hadn't seen Lucius Malfoy at the ball but she was definitely going to here. She was _not _ready to either. The man terrified her even though she hated to admit it. She just was not a fan of Death Eaters.

"Why am I even here?" Hermione asked, glaring at Draco once again. She was ready to leave already.

He shrugged in answer, "I don't have any Hufflepuffs around to torture."

"You don't have any Gryffindors either," she retorted as she pulled herself up to her full height.

Theo suddenly rose from the couch and walked from the group toward Hermione. He stopped in front of her and flipped his hair from his eyes, looking down at her, "You're only going to ruin his mood if you keep this up. Do you want him to throw a bitch fit? Because I don't. I heard enough of it at the ball. Come on," he told her.

Hermione stared at him in slight shock. Her go with Theodore Nott? Somewhere in a manor she has no idea how to get around? She didn't think so.

"Why should I?" she quizzed him as she crossed her arms once more. She was slowly becoming accustomed to the position of her arms.

"I can tell you rather be anywhere but here – namely a library. If you don't trust me, suit yourself. Have fun being hit on and hexed," he told her as she stepped away from her and out into the hall. She stared at Draco once more who was still smirking before she followed after Theo.

"Wait," she told him. He glanced over his shoulder before continuing down the hall and her following. They were now descending the stairs back to the blood red hallway. Theo continued down three doors before he entered a room – a room that blew Hermione away. It was at least half the size of Hogwart's own library, but more packed with books than chairs. It was heaven, basically. Hermione would kill to have a library this large. Perhaps Parkinson Manor did. She'd need to ask Alex once she saw him again.

Theo flopped down in one of the plush armchairs and draped his legs over the side. He picked up right where he was in his book when he'd stood up and left Draco's room moments before. How he was so unfazed, Hermione didn't know.

She walked to the nearest bookshelf and examined the titles. They were all magical – of course – and quite a few of them were dark. _What did you expect? You're in a Death Eater's home, _her mind told her. The little voice angered her.

She reached for a purple book that matched the color of her robes before glancing over to Theo, "Am I allowed to touch these?"

He glanced over his book at her before returning his eyes to reading. She finally noticed what he was reading: _Paradise Lost. _Her eyes widened. He was reading a muggle poem. _Muggle. _

"John Milton's a muggle," Hermione told him as she kept her hand on the spine of the purple book she'd reached for.

"So were you until three days ago in my eyes," he told her. As he realized she hadn't stopped staring at him, he closed his book at looked up at her, "What's your point, Hermione?"

She was taken aback by his use of her name. She'd never spoken to Theodore Nott except for the encounter at her 'home' three days ago. He'd never been one to openly torture her, but he was normally present. She'd always assumed he'd called her either mudblood or Granger. Not Hermione.

"It's a muggle book. You're pureblood," she pointed out as if it were obvious.

"What happens to Adam and Eve?" Theo asked as he reopened his book and continued to read before looking up at her. She was semi gawking at him.

"Don't assume I'm as big of a prat as Malfoy is – or at least seems to be. Just because I'm brought up to believe something doesn't mean I will, understand? I don't care who wrote this. If it's good, I'm reading it," he told her with a sense of finality in his words. Hermione had never heard Theodore Nott speak and now that he had, she kind of hoped he hadn't. He had their mysterious aura around him that called her to him – and she didn't like it. She liked mysteries. She wanted to figure him out. Getting involved with a Slytherin – even if it were just friendship – was a bad idea.

"You don't believe in pure bloods being higher than muggles or muggleborns?" she asked him curiously. She removed her hand from the shelf, pulling the book with her. She walked toward the closest couch, which happened to be next to where Theo was sitting. She sat the book in her lap as she watched him.

"Why does it concern you, Parkinson?" he asked her as he continued to read his book once again. He intrigued her.

"Why do you hangout with Malfoy, then?" she quizzed him. She didn't care that she was in a room filled with books – she wanted to crack him.

"Malfoy needs me," he told her as he continued to read. He didn't seem to be entirely interested in their exchange.

"Why would he need you? He must think you a "mudblood-lover" or something. I mean, you're a pureblood-" he cut her off before she could continue.

"So are you."

His words caught her off guard. He was right – she _was _a pureblood. She'd only know for a week now, but she was of pure wizarding blood. She didn't believe she was higher than muggleborns or even muggles. It wasn't because of her upbringing, was it? It was because of herself. Maybe she was too hard on purebloods and the Slytherins. Maybe they weren't all bad. Theo didn't seem to be entirely bad. Maybe she judged too harshly.

Hermione picked the book up from her lap and began reading, dropping the conversation for now.

* * *

"Why is he being so nice to her?" Pansy Parkinson spat out as she cuddled into Draco's side. He didn't seem entirely okay with that, but he didn't complain. He'd given up on controlling her years ago.

"Have you seen her? I would mind a good shag with her," Blaise spoke up as he mirrored Draco's position and threw his arm over the back of the chair he was sitting in. Daphne had moved to the couch Theo had previously occupied and was flipping through the magazine once again.

"She's a mudblood!" Pansy screeched as she looked at Draco for back up. He wasn't paying attention, though. He tried to ignore Pansy's rants as much as he could.

"Incase you haven't noticed, she's not. She's your sister," Blaise retorted as he stared at Pansy. She looked murderous.

"That hideous _wench _is _not-"_

Blaise cut her off before she could finish her list of obscenities of Hermione, "She's not so ugly anymore. She's pretty fucking hot."

"Then what am I?" Pansy hissed out through her teeth. She _was _murderous now.

"A bitch," he told her as she jumped up from the couch and launched herself at him. He grabbed her before she could do any serious damage and leant over to whisper in her ear, "Who's acting like a mudblood now?"

Blaise pushed her back toward Draco before standing up and leaving the room. Pansy stared after him in a rage. Draco was finally paying attention now.

"What is _his _deal?" she grit out as she looked at Draco and took her seat next to him once again.

"Probably your sister's new look. Fuck if I know," he answered back as he glanced at Daphne who was still lounging on the couch. Draco was bored and he didn't want her here anymore, "Oi, Greengrass, out."

Daphne glanced up at him before seeing the close proximity of the couple and standing to leave. She wanted far away from here. Pansy could be _loud_. She saluted to Pansy before leaving Draco's room and heading off to look for Blaise.

Pansy turned from Daphne's retreating figure to Draco. He smirked at her as he waved his wand at his door to shut it. Pansy's spirits were lifted within minutes. No one fucked better than Draco Malfoy, after all.

* * *

**Author's Note: **The title of this chapter is from the song _Product of a Murderer _by Of Mice & Men.

Thank-you so much for reviewing! I enjoy reading them and try my best to answer the questions in future chapters. As I promised, here is your chapter. Sorry if it's not what you wanted! I'm still trying to get her accepted by the other Slytherins before Draco. He _is _the Slytherin Prince, after all. Their love will come soon enough, though. As will her darkness… next chapter (;

Let's up the review count to fifteen for a new chapter, shall we? This is my final week of school so it'll take a few more reviews to get a chapter out of me early...

Fifteen reviews = new chapter within two days (;

**This chapter was not beta'd.**

**Reviews are my cocaine – be my drug dealer? (:**


	7. Dirty Little Secret

**Chapter Seven: **_Dirty Little Secret_

* * *

Before the time for dinner had even arrived, Hermione had begun to consider Theodore Nott a possible acquaintance. She of course was not going to accept his civilitytoward her lightly. Even if he hadn't called her mudblood to her face the past five years, he _had _been present for majority of her affairs with Draco Malfoy or any of the other Slytherins. Just because he _happened _to be not as rotten as she 'd previously assumed meant nothing, really. He was still a Slytherin – or part of the specific group of Slytherins she despised - and he was still within Draco Malfoy's close group of friends. Hermione has trust issues, obviously.

Hermione glanced up from her book – _Undisclosed Magical Maladies – _and watched as Theodore Nott stood from his chair and stretched. He'd apparently finished reading the muggle poem. She had the urge to ask him what he though of it, but Theo wasn't someone you carried small talk with. It just didn't seem _right._

"-hungry?"

Hermione came back to her musings as she realized Theo was staring at her. He'd asked her if she was hungry. Why he would ask that, she didn't know. She'd assumed he'd have left already, leaving her alone in the Malfoy family library. He hadn't though, oddly enough.

"Ur, yeah," she replied cautiously as he stared at her through the fringe of his dark hair. He _was _a mystery. Why had she never paid attention to him before? She loved challenges. She'd cracked the Ravenclaw Sean Rooferd who'd never spoken a word to anyone in his five years at Hogwarts. It had been a challenge and she loved it. She loved to discover little things about people – especially people who weren't completely willing to divulge the information. With a shudder, Hermione realized her inner Slytherin was showing itself.

Hermione sat staring at Theo for a moment too long as he jerked his head to the door, signaling for her to follow. She scrambled after him in a clumsy manner. She really did _not _want to be alone in Malfoy Manor not that she thought about it. Not that Theodore Nott was much protection or gave her a feel of security and safety, but he wasn't Lucius Malfoy. That was enough for her.

Hermione followed after the tall Slytherin as he headed down to the lower floor of Malfoy Manor. She wasn't aware of the time but from the darkened color of the blood red walls in the corridor, she'd assume it was evening. So far Hermione had survived her first day at Malfoy Manor.

Theo slipped through narrow, short corridors with ease until they arrived in a rather large kitchen. Four house elves immediately appeared in front of them causing Hermione to jump. She wasn't used to the elves and she never would be. Her fingers itched to hand them clothing – to free them. But of course that wouldn't work. House elves _liked _to work. _How you can like working for such prats such as the Malfoys, I don't know, _she thought to herself.

"Master Nott," the closet elf bowed, his wide-eyed stare unnerving Hermione as he looked back up to him, "how can Yue help you, sir?"

Theo glanced back at Hermione before shaking the hair from his eyes and answering the elf with a bored tone, "Whatever food you have, I guess."

He raised an eyebrow at Hermione as he looked back at her again. She shrugged, not knowing what to say. She didn't like speaking to the elves, really. She didn't like ordering them around or asking them for anything.

The elf bowed before moving away. The sound of scraping metal and pans suddenly filled the air. She still wasn't aware of the time. Hermione pulled her wand from her pocket and waved it, casting a nonverbal spell to show her the time. It read 8:12 P.M. Waving the numbers away, Hermione caught Theo watching her. He was leaning against the counter closest to him, his right eye semi-covered by his hair. He shook his hair out of the way as he watched her with a bored look. Why was he being… _decent _to her?

"Why?" she suddenly asked him, rolling her wand back in front in her hands as if it were a nervous habit. She hadn't meant to blurt it so uncharacteristically. But, after all, she _was _changing. The pure bred life was making her… weak. If that was the right word at all.

"Why what?" he asked back as he folded his arms over his chest. The aura around him drew Hermione toward him. She _wanted _to know his secrets. It bothered her.

"Why are you talking to me?" replied Hermione as she slid her wand back into her pocket and crossed her arms over her chest as well, mirroring him.

Theo still looked uninterested as he answered her, "Do you not want me to?"

She thought about it for a moment. Did she want him to go away? To not talk to her at all? She didn't know. She knew relatively nothing about him, only that he stood by and watched her get hit by multiple hexes over the years without a word. She didn't know if he was secretly just as evil – or devious perhaps was the right word – as Malfoy. But just because she didn't trust his notions exactly, did that mean she didn't want to speak to him? To be in his company? She guessed not.

With a sigh, Hermione leant against the wall next to her and closed her eyes momentarily, "No, I mean yes. I mean I don't mind – or care, really. I just don't get your intentions."

Theo seemed vaguely interested now, "Intentions?"

"Your motives in speaking to me – saving me from a fight that surely would have not ended well, etcetera," she answered him as she reopened her eyes and rubbed the corners. She was getting tired.

"I'll assure you that I have no pernicious ulterior motives, Hermione," he drawled as he grabbed an apple that suddenly appeared next to him. He took a bite as he watched her. Was that curiosity in his eyes? She couldn't tell. She was still unsettled by his use of her first name so flippantly.

Hermione nodded at him as the elf who'd spoken to them previously – Yue – came up to her, handing her a plate of what seemed to be a strange concoction of meat and vegetables that she'd never seen. She thanked the elf and stepped up to the nearest counter, setting the plate down. She eyed it curiously, debating on eating it. Perhaps it was poisoned? Perhaps it would kill her instantly? She didn't trust the Malfoys or their elves, sadly.

"I assure you it's quite enticing," she heard Theo say. She looked at him, only a few feet away from her, and scanned his face for dishonesty. Perhaps she wouldn't be able to find any in the first place, but she came up empty and decided it was worth a chance. Even if it were poisoned, she'd at least only had to spend a day within Malfoy – or within proximity of him.

Hermione used her fork to cut into the strange meat and taste it, closing her eyes at the exquisite taste. It was amazing. She couldn't tell what it was, though. It was odd. She'd never tasted something so…pungent. So _savory. _It was heaven within her mouth.

"What is this?" she asked as she glanced at Theo. He smirked slightly causing Hermione to be taken aback momentarily. It was an odd look for him.

"Acromantula," he replied as she looked down at her plate and stood, pushing it away from her. She'd eaten spider. _Giant _spider at that. She suddenly felt sick. Very sick.

Closing her eyes, Hermione looked at the still smirking Theodore Nott with a look of utmost disgust, "Should I even ask how Malfoy got ahold of Acromantula? Or _why _he has Acromantula?"

Theo shrugged, examining his nails as Yue handed him his own plate of spider. He immediately began to eat, ignoring the nauseous look that crossed over Hermione's face. She was eating spider. She'd eaten _spider. _

Poking the vegetables on her plate, she couldn't tell what they were. Possibly magical, possibly not. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to know what they were, though. So instead of asking, she dug into her meal. It took a lot of effort to swallow all of the food. But in the end she accomplished it.

"I would've thought you'd thrown up by now," Theo spoke up as he watched Hermione with an odd curiosity. He hadn't though of her as one to eat such a precarious food. She had been raised muggle of course.

Hermione closed her eyes as she felt slowly nauseous once again. She could get used to it, though. She could get used to eating it if it was all she had – which she knew it wasn't all she had. But she could and would get used to it. She didn't want to show weakness to anyone here. She was above that.

"It was good," she told him with a shrug. She pulled her wand from her pocket and started fiddling with it again. Perhaps it was a nervous habit of hers.

Theo sighed, kicking off from the counter and walking back towards the way they came, "Come on. I'll show you your room. I don't care for you to enrage Malfoy tonight."

* * *

Hermione stared upwards at the dark canopy above her. She knew it was past midnight – well past midnight. Yet, she couldn't sleep. Her mind was too awake. She was pondering too much. Mainly she was pondering how this had happened.

How was she sleeping in a room only two doors away from Draco Malfoy? A room next to Blaise Zabini? How could she be _okay _with it? _You're not okay with it,_ the voice in her head told her. It was right, too. She wasn't okay with it, not one bit. She missed Harry and Ron and even Ginny. She missed Neville and Dean and Seamus and even Lavender Brown with her fashion magazines and gossip of who was dating whom. She felt like a traitor somehow. She was spending time with the very people who'd made hers and all her friends' lives hell. But how could she not? One of them was family – her twin to be exact. Hermione didn't like that thought. She didn't like thinking of the fact that Pansy Parkinson and her were twins. She was grateful, however, for the fact that they were fraternal. She probably couldn't have handled it if her and Pansy looked incredibly similar. It just would've been too odd.

Hermione rolled onto her side and stared toward the open window to her right. She could feel the summer breeze that blew the curtains softly. She could see the full moon hanging low in the sky, illuminating her face. Why was she here? Why hadn't she run? Why hadn't she tried to contact Dumbledore again? The voice inside her head never replied – she didn't know either.

Hermione suddenly sat up, wringing her hands. She turned the ring on her right forefinger around and around. If it had been yesterday, she'd have been near hysterics just by the site of the ring. But she wasn't. She didn't even feel a true pang of misery. Surely you weren't supposed to accept the death of your pseudo-parents so fast, were you? She didn't know. No one she knew had the same story as herself.

Hermione looked around the darkened room she was in, dimly lit by moonlight. Her things were sitting in front of her in front of a large wardrobe. Other than the bed, the wardrobe, the two bedside tables, and a desk – the room was empty of furniture. The sheer size of the room and lack of furniture should've bothered her. Oddly enough, Hermione was becoming accustomed to the size of pureblooded homes, now. She assumed this summer that she'd be spending quite an awful time in them, so why shouldn't she be? This was her life now whether she wanted it to be or not. She just had to deal with it. _At least until Dumbledore gets involved, _the voice in her mind told her.

Hermione stared at the multiple bags in front of her. Her mother insisted on her bringing multiple pairs of robes and dresses – dresses she was sure she didn't need. That is, until Theo decided to inform her of three separate balls this week alone she was asked to attend. She realized it had been the reason she was here. Her mother wanted her to know sophistication – to learn how to be a proper purebred daughter. _Mommy Dearest, I apologize, but that won't happen, _she thought to herself as she slid from the bed and walked toward the wardrobe.

Standing in the direct line of the breeze caused Hermione to shiver. She wasn't able to bring _any _clothing from her muggle home or life so she was stuck in a nightgown of thin material. The fact that it stopped mid thigh didn't help so much, either.

Hermione knelt by her bags and reached for the largest – the black bag she had been holding when Shim had appeared in her room. She carefully unzipped it and reached inside, rummaging around until she found what she was looking for. Careful not to damage the already frail book on any of the multiple pairs of stiletto heels in her back, Hermione slowly raised the heavy tome from its confinement.

Once again, she felt the powerful aura that surrounded the possible treatise. She'd felt this type of magical pull from the books in the Restricted Section before. Maybe she shouldn't read it – maybe she shouldn't even try. It was possible that this was it – that this was the written work of Merlin. The written work of dark magic – of how it all came to be. The powerful pull from the book that made her _want _to decode everything within nearly proved her correct. It seemed that it was. It seemed that she had every dark spell, every known thing about dark magic, about original magic – old magic, neutral magic – all of it, within her hands.

Walking back to her bed, Hermione sat on top of it and groped for her wand under her pillow, casting a quiet "Lumos" as she reached for the candle next to her bed, lighting it with a first year spell. Turning back to the tome, she opened the book. Turning to the sixth page once again, she found the name _Merlinus - _Merlin in Latin. She was thankful for her being fluent in Latin now thanks to her learning of being magic. Most spells were derived from Latin words or _in _Latin, so she'd ended up teaching herself it within her first two years at Hogwarts. She was now fluent in the dead language, able to translate it easily. If that was in fact Merlin's book, she knew the translations would be in Latin. But… if it _was _Merlin's book, she couldn't read it. She knew the story of it – the _power _it held.

Ignoring her conscience, Hermione turned five more pages, watching as the runes filled the page. She knew the language – she'd studied it in Ancient Runes. No one used it anymore – very few people even knew how to translate it. _Scripto e Verbo _was a very dead language indeed.

Running her fingers over the page, Hermione stared at the runes. It happened to be coincidence that Hermione herself knew a good deal of Merlin's dead language. Being the knowledge succubus that she was, she'd researched it previously – teaching herself some of the runes. She wasn't even semi-fluent, but she could understand some of them – she could guess their meanings.

Running her finger around the rim of the first rune – a circle with a star in the middle, cut down the center and the outer edges put together so the flat sides faced outwards of each other – the circle and star broken. Hermione didn't know this one. She'd never seen it. She knew what the cut down the center meant, however.

"_Tenebrae," _she read out loud to herself as she traced the star portion of the rune. So far the rune spoke of darkness – that much was translated. But what of the broken circle? That normally meant distrust, she thought. Or incompletion. But that surely wasn't it. Incomplete darkness? Didn't make much sense to her.

Hermione reached for her wand once again, pointing it at the book and tracing the rune with her wand as she whispered a spell under her breath. She prayed this would work. She only wanted to know if this was in fact Merlin's book. She had no intention to ever read it – _ever. _She knew what it could do. She remembered learning of it. She remembered hearing of how after Merlin had written _The Book, _bloodshed began. Wars – never ending wars. It'd been terrible. Only a page read of the book would fill you with darkness – would open your mind, your soul – all of you to the darkness that was tenecae. It would swallow you – you wouldn't be yourself anymore. You would be a puppet of the magic – a puppet of malicious and malignant ways.

Hermione of course knew this, so when the rune began glowing a dull blue and the translation filled her mind, she began to close the book. It was it – it was _the _book. She couldn't read it. She couldn't keep it in her possession – it needed to be destroyed. No one should have this book – to see it. How had her family even gotten a hold of it? It was one of the most important literary works of the magical world. People would _kill _for this book. She knew the danger. She knew its power. So why was she tracing the next rune – the translation filling her mind? Why was she continuing? As she neared the middle of the page, she'd forgotten why she wanted to stop. Nothing would happen, surely. Right? She was strong. She was the brightest witch of her age _and _time. Merlin had nothing on her. His runes – his _tenecae _had _nothing _on her. She wouldn't change, of course not. But this could be the key to ending the war – to defeating Voldemort. To winning. So why shouldn't she continue? To get the answers from it? She didn't see a reason not to.

So with a triumphant smile, Hermione continued to translate the dark book – the darkest book known to magickind. She thought she was safe – she thought she was fine. Unaware was she of the dark black smoke that swirled in her eyes as she closed the book after translating four long pages of runes. Unaware was she that this was only theory that she was reading – that this was only the beginning. Unaware that Hermione Granger nee Parkinson was sinking into the depths of tenecae – into the depths of Hell from where she would _never _return.

* * *

**Author's Note: **The title of this chapter is from the song of the same title by All-American Rejects.

So the darkness begins. I was going to try and write a part of the book, but I just couldn't. I wouldn't have done it justice. Sorry if it sucked – but I felt that the only way Hermione could truly be persuaded toward the dark and fall prey to it would be through knowledge. She craves it – thus she wants to read the most famous book known to the magical world. She's blind when it comes to knowledge in my opinion.

Also - eighteen reviews within a day? I've never gotten over thirty reviews on a story before! If I were to reach hundred reviews… wow. I would probably give y'all two huge chapters within a day.

Next chapter is going to be extra long - Daphne's party & Hermione's turn to the dark side - which turns out, doesn't have cookies...

Fifteen reviews = new chapter within two days once again.

**This chapter was not beta'd or revised at all.**

**Reviews are my cocaine – be my drug dealer? (:**


	8. Inamorata

**Chapter Eight: **_Inamorata_

* * *

Malfoy Manor was not an attractive home in the slightest. Hermione Parkinson could vouch for that. She'd only been within the confinements of the Manor for two days, but she'd seen enough of it to know it wasn't somewhere she'd like to live. The dark grey stone that was the manor's outer foundation looked as if it were crumbling due to the cruel storms that passed through during the summers. The weathering of the stone caused it to have a mass of darker and lighter greys streaking the building. The shrubbery itself was a tale of its own. It was – in short – a gothic mansion taken straight from the nineteenth century.

Hermione sat staring at her reflection in the water, hidden from view of others. The weather outside made Malfoy Manor look even more dreary than usual. Then again, it could always look this dreary. Hermione wouldn't know. It _was _only her second day there after all.

Stretching out on her back to stare up into the grey sky, Hermione poised her hands behind her head on the hard stone bench that surrounded the fountain. She'd been contemplating running away for the past two hours. She had a large list of cons and zero pros. So why was she still there?

Pulling on her mess of tangles, she braided her hair in a busy side ponytail and stood from her position. She doubted anyone was missing her but she didn't want to accidentally run into Lucius Malfoy. She hadn't seen the man since her arrival yesterday and she preferred it that way. Plus, she needed to get ready for Daphne's party.

_I cannot believe I'm going_, Hermione thought to herself as she navigated her way back toward the Manor's back entrance. She knew the only reason she was going was so she wouldn't have a chance of running into the Malfoy patriarch, but she still didn't want to. Daphne Greengrass was acting a bit _too_ clingy. Pansy Parkinson _clingy. _

Hermione quietly walked the dimly lit halls of Malfoy Manor until she reached her room. She only had two hours to get ready for the party and she had a _lot _of work to do if she were to look like a purebred beauty.

* * *

Standing in front of the floor length mirror was a girl you wouldn't ever dream of calling mudblood. Nor would you call her any insulting thing. Her beauty was unimaginable.

Hermione turned around to see the back of her dress, looking over her shoulder. She felt giddy once again. She was beginning to think that maybe – just _maybe _– this night wouldn't be so terrible. Malfoy's ball hadn't been dreadful after all, and this party would only contain those close to her own age so it would be better, right? Hermione kept telling herself this.

With one last glance in the mirror at her dress, Hermione examined her face and hair. She'd decided to curl her hair with one of Daphne's mom's potions once again, but to put her hair up into a complicated updo. Two thin curls framed her face, which was glowing in the dim light of the bathroom. Her eyes had a golden smoky eye, her lips a warm peach. Her dress was what _really _made her feel beautiful, though. The floor length emerald green gown split halfway up her right leg revealing her long legs – she thought it a bit trampy, but it was all she had brought with her – and golden sparkles sprinkled across the top of the dress. The dress being strapless and figure fitting only made it better. Her silver four-inch heels added a bit of height to her without being dramatic. She felt beautiful.

Hermione started when she heard a knock on her door. She turned away from the mirror and waddled – she wasn't used to heels yet – toward the door. She opened it up and started once more as she saw it was Theodore Nott. She wasn't sure if they were friends yet. She preferred acquaintances.

"Can I help you?" Hermione asked, her right eyebrow rising ever so slightly in a questioning stance.

Theo looked Hermione up and down slowly before returning his eyes to hers. His face was – as always – emotionless. "We're leaving."

Stepping away from the door with a nod, Hermione walked over toward her bed and grabbed her wand. She slid it into the holster on her thigh, stopping in front of Theo and raising her eyebrows at him.

"Are we going?" she asked, her eyebrows still raised.

With an emotionless glance, Theodore Nott turned away from the beauty that was Hermione Parkinson and walked down the darkened corridor, Hermione following. Instead of going down the stairs – which she was thankful for due to her heels that she was _not _used to – Theo led her into the room she'd previously arrived in. The fireplace was glowing with green flames, the remnants of someone else's leave.

Grabbing a handful of floo powder, Hermione tossed it into the fading flames and stepped into them, calling out, "Greengrass Manor!" as she did. She was rushed away in a swirl of Avada Kedavra colored flames before landing in a familiar grey stone fireplace. Barely catching herself by throwing an arm out and grabbing onto the nearest thing, she looked up and smiled embarrassed at the person whom she'd caught herself on.

"I'm deeply sorry," she began in her practiced purebred tongue, "I apologize for grabbing onto you so suddenly."

It was then that she realized whom she'd grabbed onto. She pulled her hand back and grimaced at the Malfoy heir, a sneer working onto her face. He merely smirked as he replied, "It's no problem, love."

"Shove off, Malfoy," she hissed at him before she stepped around him to allow Theo – who had just arrived – out of the fireplace. She glared at the blonde before walking away from him, following the sound of music and voices out into the hallway and toward the center of the manor. She didn't want to be in Draco Malfoy's prescience anymore than required. Just because she happened to be pureblooded didn't mean he thought higher of her. She definitely thought of him no higher.

Stepping into the open space that was the loft, Hermione looked over the railing to see a magically enlarged room that served as a ballroom. Hermione suddenly felt nervous at the sheer amount of people standing below her – it had to at least be all of Slytherin sixth and seventh years as well as a large amount of Durmstrang student. As she walked down the steps, she quickly scanned the group of people to find someone she recognized. Finding her sister in between two tall gentleman – she assumed Durmstrang boys – she headed the opposite direction from her. It would be wise to steer clear of Pansy – she clearly had a death wish for Hermione.

Wandering through the crowd aimlessly for a few minutes, Hermione decided to avoid people altogether and found a relatively secluded corner and leant against the wall. Multiple guys had looked at her and smiled, but she hadn't returned any of them. She suddenly felt bored and regretted coming. Without her brother – who seemed to have taken up the role of her best friend – she didn't feel the need to socialize with anyone. She had no one to impress, so why should she?

"_Granger?"_

Looking to her right, Hermione came face-to-face with none other than Millicent Bulstrode. Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow at the girl. Surely she would know of her heritage by now, wouldn't she? She was quite close with Pansy, after all.

"I no longer go by that," Hermione told the girl as she scanned her up and down. Millicent wasn't a very attractive girl with her jutting jaw and square-like build. Her thin-strapped baby blue dress came to a stop at her knees, her black hair straightened and falling to her shoulders. Hermione couldn't help but look at the girl with a hint of disdain in her eyes. The girl _had _physically restrained Hermione in their second year, after all.

Millicent laughed at Hermione's answer and raised her own eyebrow, "Are you telling me someone married you, Mudblood?"

Hermione couldn't help but look at the girl in slight shock. How did she not know? Surely she was a friend of Pansy and the other Slytherins. Hermione had seen them together quite often and the girls even shared a dormitory. Perhaps Pansy didn't want anyone to know. Hermione suddenly felt like the night wasn't so bad. After all, proving people wrong was one of her favorite past times.

"Haven't you heard Millicent dear," Hermione began with an uncharacteristic smirk forming on her features. "I'm a Parkinson."

Millicent suddenly laughed. Hermione felt the urge to cover her ears – it was a shrill sound that caused her head to dully throb. Was there anything _slightly _good about the girl in front of her? She doubted it very much.

"Just wait until Daphne hears that Potter's Mudblood crashed her party," the girl laughed as she turned to see said girl heading towards them. Hermione couldn't help but smirk at the girl as her eyebrows shot up to her hairline when Daphne smiled at the Parkinson twin.

"Hermione!" Daphne screeched as she hugged Hermione to her, "You look beautiful!"

Smiling at the girl, Hermione returned the compliment and turned to see Millicent staring in shock at the pair. It appeared that Millicent _wasn't _in their little 'group' anymore. Hermione's smirk only grew. If she hadn't been caught up in the moment, she would've wondered when she'd learned to smirk and why it felt so _right_.

"Daph, why is the Mudblood here?"

"Oh Millie," Daphne replied as she waved her hand absentmindedly at the girl, "Hermione isn't a muggleborn. She's a pureblood – she's Pansy's sister."

Hermione could only stare at Daphne after her calmly spoken assessment. She hadn't expected anyone to accept her heritage so suddenly – especially not Pansy's best friend. It was so surreal that she missed the look of absolute shock on Millicent Bulstrode's face.

"You're joking?" The girl asked, as she looked Hermione up and down. The witch was still too wrapped up in her own thoughts to take notice. She suddenly felt tired – very drained. She no longer held her smirk.

"Of course not, Millie!" Daphne replied before she suddenly shrieked in a very girly manner, "There's Alex! I'll be right back."

Hermione's head jerked upwards at Daphne's words and followed the girl with her eyes as she headed toward none other than Alexander Parkinson. He looked incredibly handsome in Hermione's opinion. Without a word to Millicent, Hermione followed after Daphne at a slightly slower pace. The drained feeling she had felt before was now gone – she might finally have fun tonight.

"-glad you came!" Daphne was telling the Parkinson heir as he hugged her seemingly reluctantly. Hermione stifled a laugh at the sight before smiling at Alex when he caught her eye. He smiled back at her and moved away from Daphne to hug her.

"Hermione!" He all but yelled as he hugged her and stepped back, holding her at arms length to examine her. "You look stunning, little sister."

Hermione smiled at him and returned the compliment before catching Daphne's eye behind him. She looked hurt – much so. Deciding that she should repay Daphne for her acceptance and inviting her, Hermione gestured to the girl and smiled at her brother, "Don't you think Daphne looks just as stunning?"

Alex gave her a strange look before turning away from her to examine the eldest Greengrass with a seemingly forced smile. Hermione tuned out of their conversation to examine the party. People were laughing, couples dancing in the center of the floor to some band Hermione had never heard of, and Draco Malfoy was looking extremely put off at Pansy's attempts to snog. Hermione couldn't help but smirk at the scene before giggling like an impotent schoolgirl. The sight was quite hilarious, after all. At least it was until the Malfoy heir suddenly connected eyes with her and stared emotionlessly in her direction. Hermione's laughter faded as she could only stare back, her face just as expressionless. She only looked away when someone tapped her shoulder, pulling her away from Draco Malfoy's gaze. Feeling a sudden chill go down her back, Hermione turned away from him. Smiling apologetically at the guy whom had tapped her shoulder, she took his offered hand, which he kissed gently.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, love," he told her with a grin, "but I was wondering if you'd do me the honor of dancing with me?"

Blushing, Hermione nodded and followed the pureblood onto the dance floor. Wrapping her arms loosely around his neck – which she wouldn't have been able to do if it weren't for her heels – she examined him. He was quite attractive with shaggy blonde hair and distinctive cheekbones. His eyes were a dark green that could easily cause a girl to swoon – Hermione included. She assumed he was a Durmstrang student – she didn't recognize him from Hogwarts, after all.

"I remember you from Malfoy's party," Hermione's dance partner spoke up, looking down at her with a twinkle in his dark eyes. She couldn't help but blush again under his intense gaze. Only Viktor Krum had stared at her that way. "You were just as stunning that night as you are now."

"Thank-you," Hermione replied as she looked around the dance floor. She spotted Alex sharing a dance with Daphne and held a giggle in. He didn't look too pleased with his current arrangements. Looking back up at her own partner, Hermione smiled softly at him.

"I don't know your name, sadly," she told him as he grinned back at her with a hint of mischief shining in his eyes. He _was _quite dashing.

"Matthew Rowle," he told her with a cheeky grin, "And you, my dear, are Hermione Parkinson if what I hear about you is true."

Nodding in agreement to his words, Hermione looked away from his intense gaze and scanned the room again. She looked back up at him as he spoke.

"Would you like to go outside? Perhaps get some air?" He threw her a smile that caused her heart to skip a beat. She was rarely ever… _flirted _with. It just didn't happen.

"S-sure," she stuttered in an extremely uncharacteristic manner. _It's all for show, _Hermione told herself as she followed Matthew off the floor and toward two open doors that left off into the moonlight.

Following the path, Matthew stopped at a secluded bench far enough away from the doors for privacy but still close enough that they could still hear the laughter of witches and wizards. Smiling softly at the attractive wizard next to her, Hermione turned to look up at the moon – it was full tonight. She couldn't help but worry about Professor Lupin – or Remus as he'd told her to call him now. That thought brought her back to herself for a split second.

"Did you come with a date?" Matthew suddenly asked as he took one of Hermione's pale hands in his own. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles daintily. She blushed. She once again lost herself.

"No," she replied with another blush. She was sure her cheeks were now permanently reddened.

"Now," he began as he kissed her wrist, "what is a beautiful girl," he kissed her forearm, "like yourself," he kissed the crook of her elbow – she shivered –"doing at such an event," he kissed one of the freckles on her bicep, "alone?"

Shivering in the chill of the evening and from his administrations, Hermione smiled timidly at the pureblooded boy – young man - before her. As he leant into her, his lips nearing her own, her eyes closing instinctively. She'd only kissed one guy and she'd been terrified. That was nearly two years ago, now, and she liked to think she had _some _experience if any at all. As his lips touched hers, she automatically melted, allowing him to do as he pleased.

Wrapping her arms around Matthew's neck – the boy she met not five minutes ago – their shared kiss quickly became heated. Pulling away from her lips, the boy began kissing down her jaw, her neck, her chest, dipping lower until Hermione tried to push him away.

"Stop," she told him as she pushed him harder, his strength too much for her. He looked up at her, his green eyes shining with pure, unaltered lust. Instead of feeling loved or proud of her ability to inflict that emotion on him, she felt disgusted.

"Just a taste," he told her as his hands trailed from where they'd been resting on her hips to the slit of her dress, pulling it up as he slid his hands back toward their original positions.

"Stop," she told him again as she tried to move away from him on the bench, her own eyes darkening with a different emotion, Hermione completely unaware. The pureblooded man had yet to notice as well.

"Now come on-"

"_Stop!" _She finally screeched, the man flying backwards away from her and into the shrubbery. Staring at the burning hole that had been left behind, Hermione stood with a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. Glancing through the hole, Hermione blinked away tears. Where was he? What happened? Looking around her in shock – both from the attempted rape she'd experienced and the lack of rapist – Hermione turned tail and fled. The entire time, her being completely unaware of her irises that were now ebony black.

Running through the swirl of bodies around her, Hermione missed the stunned looks of many purebloods. She didn't know where she was going, nor did she care. She just wanted away – away from that spot in the Greengrass gardens. She just wanted _it _to go away. She wanted to forget it already. Nothing had happened, but it could've and that terrified her. _Never again, I won't trust ever again, _she told herself as she ran down one of dimly lit corridors of Greengrass Manor until there was no where else to turn but a single door. Testing the knob, she ran inside with the door slamming behind her. She vaguely noticed that she was in a study – a library of sorts. Winding in between the shelves at a slower pace, Hermione collapsed at the end of one – completely darkened except for a single candle sending flickering shadows across her face. Hermione pulled her knees to her chest, the tears no longer coming. She felt as if she were overreacting – as if she made a big deal of nothing. Nothing had happened, right? She was fine. He hadn't violated her. She still had her purity. She was fine. She'd _be _fine.

A door creaking pulled Hermione from her reassuring thoughts, her head lifting to look down the aisle she currently sat. She didn't want to be found now – by anyone. She probably looked like a mess. All that work for nothing – her makeup was _ruined. _

"Hermione?"

Standing up at the voice she hadn't realized she wanted to hear, Hermione stumbled down the aisle toward the boy she unconsciously had been wishing for. Looking up into her brother's eyes, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, not letting go.

"Whoa," he stumbled at her sudden assault of affection and wrapped his arms around her lower back, "are you alright?"

Sniffling quietly, Hermione pulled back from him and gave him a small smile. She nodded as she resumed the hug. Alex pulled away, though, and held her at arm's length to exam her.

"Did something happen?" He asked her, concern layering his voice.

Shaking her head, Hermione wiped her eyes and laughed a throaty sound, "I'm fine, really. Just a misunderstanding."

Raising an eyebrow in mock belief, Alex released his hold on Hermione, "If you're positive, I'll take your word for it."

Nodding once again, Hermione replied, "I'm positive, yes. It was nothing – I'm fine. Let's go dance."

Looking at her curiously once again, Alex took his new found younger sister's hand and led her back toward the party. He didn't quite believe her, but if she said she was fine, she was fine.

Hermione could only hope the same for one Matthew Rowle.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm so sorry for the late chapter! I was out of town all month and just got back Monday morning. I'm not proud of this chapter in the slightest, but I felt like I needed something. I'll get back on track with the actual plot soon – no worries. Don't hate me _too _much for this chapter!

Good news though is that I'm almost to 100 reviews!

**Reviews are my cocaine – be my drug dealer? (:**


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